Everybody's Fool
by livingforfomas
Summary: The War isn't at all what they read or hear about. When the truth is known by those who can't be trusted, what's true anymore? Can a seemingly ignorant first year be the key to salvation?
1. Prologue: Everybody's Fool

**Everybody's Fool**

**(Previously under Grey Hope)**

**Summary: **Draco joins the Light side after failing his task. Harry welcomes him easily into a simple reality that he isn't worthy of. Of course, life can't remain simple for long.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, well, read and find out.

**Thank-you:** To any that have previously read/ suffered through this and are coming back. To anyone starting the journey. It's a bumpy ride.

**Rated M: **This is a Harry/Draco. Proceed with caution.

_Prologue: Everybody's Fool._

_If only you knew_, he thought irately, combing his fingers through pristine locks. His gaze alternated between the meal in front of him and the hysteria of cameras only a few tables away. The flashes were distracting to say the least, but they weren't a fraction of the distraction that they were hovered around.

_Harry Potter._

Draco forced his eyes to settle on what he couldn't remember placing on his plate and listened to his stomach grumble. He'd felt too sick as of late to finish a meal, leaving him in a ridiculously pale and exhausted state. It was challenging to eat when what made you ill never seemed to disappear, no matter how much was against him.

He sighed; vanishing the food in front of him with the wave of his hand, muttering a spell he'd memorized at eleven. Losing to himself again, he looked up and met with excited emerald eyes. So innocent to the room around him, so _perfect_. But, that was in his nature to be perfect, to anyone else that is.

Draco gritted his teeth in annoyance, biting his tongue to keep from screaming what he knew to be the absolute truth. He would waste his breath. Perfection could never be conquered by mistake. And that was what Draco continued to make and be, a mistake.

When the taste of blood in his mouth served as enough of an interlude of thought, he released his hold on his tongue, allowing the pain to dull.

He never could get rid of the pain completely.

Deciding that this was enough torture for one dinner, he fled the Great Hall, refusing to meet the confused stares of the classmates around him. They wouldn't understand why he would run from a hero. They also wouldn't be able to fathom the ideas that Draco knew to be facts.

_Harry Potter is no hero._

Draco didn't run from a savior, he ran from a monster. He ignored a monster. He hated a monster. But, hating and running and ignoring would never serve as enough to keep a secret for a monster. No, that's only cause for celebration in revealing truth. So, why couldn't he expose the Boy Who Lived?

He finally reached the portrait to the Slytherin common room. Being one of the few to return to Hogwarts after Voldemort's death, he usually spent his evenings alone in the dungeons. The silence comforted him though. Silence meant that nothing was happening. Silence meant loneliness, and when alone, he could never be hurt.

When Draco had had a family, they'd left him. His father was meant to rot in a dirty prison cell, and his mother had left the world completely. People could only leave you in his eyes. And he would be damned if anyone would leave him again.

Interrupting his silence, a first year boy tumbled through the portrait door, still unsure of how to enter and exit a portal. Draco didn't look up from his hands that he was unconsciously staring at while the fire before him flickered.

"Sorry," the younger boy muttered, walking towards the steps that would lead him to his dormitory. He paused at the foot of the way and looked to Draco with questioning eyes. "Um, Mister Malfoy?" the boy asked, a nervous pitch clouding his voice. Draco did nothing to prove he had heard him at all; he only sat as still as stone and waited.

"D-do you know Harry P-potter well?" he finally stuttered through. After a minute of silence, he turned to leave, respecting the older boy's want for privacy.

"Yes," Draco whispered, still unchanged in posture. The word was barely a breath. "I do."

Feeling slightly confident, the boy sat a few feet from Draco, expecting more of a response.

"Then, why aren't you with the press downstairs? Getting your picture taken. They're doing all sorts of interviews. Asking people who were there about how he killed, well, you know-."

"Voldemort," Draco finished. "Yes."

_Just what we all need, more lies._

"Yeah," the boy mumbled, too intimidated to say the name himself. Draco turned slightly to look at him. He was childish in features, but he had the makings of becoming a handsome man. He was dark haired and tan skinned. His eyes were a strange combination of greens, and hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses.

"You know, you look a bit like him," Draco commented, "when he was younger of course."

_Not now, not with that mask that's so tightly glued._

"Really? Thanks. Maybe I'll look like him whenever I'm his age."

_No one could ever be Harry_. "Sure, maybe you will."

"Are you friends with Harry, sir?"

After a brief pause, Draco nodded. "You can say that."

"I read in the Prophet that you two were enemies once. I read that in your sixth year, you joined the Light side, and well, I think he said once that if it hadn't been for you, he never would have won against… you know who."

"I read that article," he said, returning his gaze to the fireplace. "We bonded during the war, I suppose."

"And what happened?" the boy wondered aloud. Draco was slightly amused at his curiosity. "I mean during the war, after the war."

"Do you really want to know, kid?"

"Davis, sir. My name is Davis."

Shocked that the boy would correct him, he smirked, something he hadn't done in a long time. "Then you'll call me Draco."

"Draco…" the boy tried, smiling. "Can you tell me about it?"

The graduating Slytherin bit at his bottom lip and wondered if he could tell the story without divulging his secrets, Harry's secrets.

He decided quickly that he would try.

"Where to begin," he murmured to himself, watching as the flames changed from red to orange, orange to smoke. It always ended that way. Fire always ended the same, in a cloud of smoke. "Well, I guess we can start at the beginning, where I decided to join the Light. Is that a good enough starting point for you?"

The boy nodded, his young excitement sparking memories that Draco so clearly needed to forget. And maybe, maybe this Davis could help with the release he needed.


	2. Chapter One: Running to Your Enemy

_Chapter One: Running to Your Enemy_

Running, I always seemed to be doing that. Whether it was from something or someone or me, I was constantly moving, constantly trying to hide from whatever fell behind me.

What I hadn't realized was that it would one day catch up with me.

I hadn't chosen to join the Dark side. I hadn't decided one morning to forget the good in the world. I wasn't allowed to decide that for myself. I was brought up to hate, to hate anything different than what I was or my supposed family. Difference was weakness, and weakness was not tolerated, not in my home, if that's what you wish to call it.

So, when it was time to receive the mark, I couldn't deny what was before me. It was my duty, my birthright. I needed to complete this task as much as I needed air to breathe. My family would only be proud if I followed every footstep they created for me.

And, as the perfect copy of the son they had bore to continue the Malfoy line, I obeyed every order. At that point, I hadn't even considered the fact that they were orders. They were second nature. Like blinking, or the beating of a heart. It wasn't something to think about, only to do.

There's only so long though that you can live in a shell that was molded for you by someone else.

My realization came too late.

During my sixth year at Hogwarts, I'd been given the task of murdering our headmaster. It wouldn't be difficult. Dumbledore would have risked anything for peace, and he certainly would never harm a student. I wasn't afraid for him. He would follow like anyone else would if they were given the opportunity.

But, to stand in front of him, wand in hand, and look into pleading eyes, eyes that only asked for strength, strength to do what I knew was right, stunned me. I literally could do nothing. I couldn't breathe, let alone kill the man who was only trying to protect the light, the good that I hadn't yet found. He knew so much, and so little at the very same time. He didn't understand where I was. He couldn't believe that a seventeen-year-old boy could really be burdened with a difficulty such as this. And he most certainly couldn't comprehend the consequences of prolonging the inevitable. There were more like me. I was given the chance to redeem the name I held closest to my heart, and it only stuck so tightly because it was the only name I'd ever known. If I couldn't handle it, someone else would be sought out, and I would never see the light of day.

And with all of that in mind, I let my wand fall. Like the scared boy I was, I let my power sink to the floor. I refused to meet the wary gaze of the older man. But, before I could even consider the idea, a flash of light exploded to my right, and this wisdom, this wizard, was gone. Dead before he could ever see his work completed.

It was my godfather who had completed the task for me. And with tear stained eyes, I fled from the tower we confined ourselves to. My eyes still flowed, barely registering in my mind. What did hit hardest was my own weakness.

Something followed through the field we were escaping, and I noticed, amiss the chaos that the Death Eaters brought, that the creature following us was human, a wizard, Harry Potter. It was almost as if I prayed for a savior, and here he was, fists clenched, ready to destroy anyone who had taken part in his mentor's death.

I stopped at the sound of him calling. I couldn't determine whether the name was mine or not, but it was shouting nonetheless, breaking the night with terrible tortured screams.

"You bloody coward!" I heard him belt, and I whipped around to see that he wasn't referring to me. "Fight back! Fight back!"

His threats were directed at Severus, and in only a moment, a charm was cast, leaving Potter on his back, heaving dryly in the grass beneath him.

The older professor stalked back to where I was glued securely to the ground and glided past me, hardly registering my presence.

I followed though, like I always had. I followed the steps that were set in stone from my birth. And only once did I look back, only to find that the savior had already disappeared.

How Potter managed to regain himself after Severus' curse was beyond anything I could understand, so I never tried to. Instead, I retreated with the rest of Voldemort's minions, back to his chambers that could hardly be considered welcoming.

Severus paced as soon as we returned. He was thinking, and I knew it impolite to interrupt him, but I couldn't stop the words before they'd escaped.

"Why, Severus?"

He paused in his routine and I almost thought that he hadn't heard my question, and planned on forgetting of ever asking again before he looked at me. His eyes were stones, heavy and void of life.

"Would you have done it yourself, Draco?"

I recoiled my eye contact and shook my head. I wouldn't lie to the man who was more of a father than my own.

"I promised to help you Draco and I have. Not in a way I would have wanted, but it was all I could do."

"I wouldn't have done the same for you. I couldn't have hurt him. Not while he was watching me. Severus, what am I supposed to do now?" I could feel the tremor in my voice; it was unbecoming.

"You have to leave before he receives word. He'll know before morning, I can promise you this. He doesn't know compassion Draco. You've failed, and if you have any hopes of self-preservation, you'll leave here as soon as possible."

There was no irony in his voice, he was as serious as I was absolutely finished.

I nodded and looked towards the mirror above the fireplace we'd apparated into before the meaning of his words sunk through, the terror was evident in my features.

"Where will I go?"

"There is only one safe place, Draco. I'm sure you remember where I'm referring to."

I didn't answer. How could I ask for protection from the boy I'd put through hell? How could I ask him to defend me of all people?

"How can I ask him to protect me, Severus?"

"It's Potter, he'll protect the most evil of us all if they're loyal to him."

"I can't prove my loyalty," I whispered, ashamed of what I was.

"You already have."

A sound erupted from above us and I grasped the wand in my back right pocket. My breathing was already labored as Severus pushed me into reality, commanding me to disappear to the only place that could save me now.

"Number Twelve Grimwald Place."

In an instant, the threatening sounds had disappeared and I was thrown in front of the only safe building of both worlds.

Collecting myself, I trudged the stairs, adjusting physically for what I didn't know. I knocked once, lightly, barely audible to the human ear. But, something turned the knob anyway, and whatever courage I had willed me to stay at the stoop.

"Who stands at the door?" a voice asked from the crack created.

I cleared my throat and straightened my posture.

"Draco Malfoy. I'm seeking the protection of the light." I was surprised that I was able to ask without difficulty. I assumed that needing help would prove too human in my eyes.

The door burst with an immense force, and I was met with a red light, signaling a stupefy that I had no intentions of stopping.

And all went black.

:::

I reasoned that a few hours must have passed in my unconscious state. The light from the small window about six feet above me introduced the dawn and I opened my eyes slightly wider to take in my surroundings.

My arms were bound behind my back and latched to the cell wall. My neck was in dire need of some tending to from the stiff position it held during my sleep, and I was wandless.

The thought of escape hadn't occurred to me. I was safest in a place where only the Light had control of me, even if I couldn't admit that to any living being, I could accept it myself.

Even the cell I was trapped in proved to be more of a home than the living quarters provided by _him_.

"Arry, you can't be serious, mate. He's a Malfoy, end of story. He doesn't deserve help."

Weasley, of course. He wouldn't do a thing in my favor.

"We promised to aid anyone who proved themselves worthy of protection."

"Does six years of torture make him eligible? If I would've known that, I would have started letting Death Eaters in sooner. He's a Death Eater Harry! You saw his mark. What could he have possibly done that would keep us from killing him? That's the least we could do!"

"You wouldn't kill anything, Ron. We both know that. And I know that he should be here. You should trust that I wouldn't defend anyone who wasn't attempting to help us."

It figured that Potter would defend a Death Eater. And it would make even more sense that he would keep the part about my failed attempt at killing Dumbledore away from the Weasel. He defended my flaw. The bastard.

"If he crosses me, I reserve the right to find someone who will hex him into the ground."

He was fuming, and I assumed Potter was grinning like an idiot, glad to win his argument.

Within a few minutes, I felt a presence behind me, and turned as much as I could to find that I wasn't alone.

"Malfoy," Potter began, his voice stern, nothing like the tone he'd used with Weasel.

"Potter, before you rant, I'm offering _my_ services here. This isn't a charity case. I'm here at my will and I will leave at my will. I need no one's help, least of all yours."

And Potter did the most unusual thing… he smirked at me, as if I were some sort of child, covering for an accident.

"Don't you dare smirk at me, Potty!" Where had he learned to do that anyway? I guess I had been a tad preoccupied with my own engagements to really take notice of all the new boy-wonder traits.

"Malfoy, you're welcome to stay at your own will, but I would appreciate it if you could understand the lengths I went for you to stay."

He stepped to the cell door and unlocked it with the wave of his hand. Potter knew wandless magic. That didn't surprise me.

Kneeling beside me, challenging my own stare with his tired eyes, his face dropped to a serious level.

"I know what you did," he whispered, "or didn't do. I know what you're running from. You're safe here. I'll thank you in advance for any of your help, even if all you ever do is whatever you've already done."

I couldn't believe his spirits after what had happened. My curiosity flared and I couldn't, in a rush of stupidity, cease the words from revealing themselves.

"Why aren't you angry? Upset? Dying on the inside as you bleeding hearted Gryffindors would do? He's dead Potter, he's-." I was cut off by Potter's hand, placed harshly over my mouth. I thought of licking it, just to piss him off, but thought it better not to when I had no idea where the hand had been.

"They don't know," he stated simply but quietly. "They'll find out soon enough, but not from me. They won't know that I could have saved him."

I tried to mumble a response, but his hand remained locked, his eyes begging for secrecy when his voice could not.

With the flick of a finger on his free hand, the shackles that held my wrists disappeared.

Releasing my mouth, I felt my jaw fall slightly; I wanted to ask so many questions at once. But, the distressed and exhausted face of the boy in front of me quieted any sort of rambling.

He nodded, as if he had understood my inner monologue and stood. "If you're a guest in my house, you'll be treated as such. I won't have anyone stuck in the dungeons without just cause. If you want to see your room, you can come with me. Or if you'd like to stay here, you can do that as well."

I huffed my response and struggled to my feet, my legs not used to keeping me upright. I stumbled through the doorway and matched Potter's steps while he led me to my room.

If asked a year ago, I would never have pictured myself under the protection of the Boy Who Wouldn't Die, let alone living under the same roof.

The stairs seemed to continue for a lifetime, floor after floor, and I cursed magic inwardly as we wound our way higher and higher while the house remained only four stories from the outside.

By the fifth floor, Potter turned back, stopping us in front of the final room at the end of the hallway. He muttered some kind of password that I was sure he would tell me later and gestured for me to continue.

The room was smaller than I was used to. The walls were a golden hue with red trimming its corners.

Gryffindors.

There was a single floor length window that led to a balcony. Why anyone would ever need that in this place, I didn't know.

Taking a quick glance, I noticed that there was more than one bed decorating the room.

"Am I sharing this room?"

"Yes, we all have a roommate, someone to watch out while you sleep. You tend to forget about privacy when you're here."

I nodded, that was understandable. "Whom am I sharing a room with?"

"Me."

I snorted, of course this wouldn't be just _any_ Gryffindor's room; it would be _the_ Gryffindor's room.

"You trust that I won't try to kill you in your sleep?"

"You haven't tried yet," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I haven't a wand, Potter."

"Would it be any different if you had?"

I thought about it. Would I go against him? On my own? I didn't doubt that I could match him. In fact, I spent my life perfecting that. But, could I be able to restrain myself if the moment presented itself?

Sighing, I bowed my head. "No, it wouldn't."

I looked to find Potter smile for a fraction of a second and I returned my focus to the bed on the window side.

"Can I have that side?"

"Sure, how about you rest for a while and I'll wake you when lunch is ready. That should give you a few hours to recover from the stupefy earlier. Sorry about that, Ron is more of a do-now and think-later kind of guy, but you'll get used to it."

During his apology, I found my way to the middle of my bed and almost choked on a snicker. "I doubt I'll ever be used to a Weasel, Potter."

"Hopefully you'll be used to their cooking. Molly tends to make everything around here."

"Figures."

It was his turn to laugh, and with my last bit of energy, I waved my hand to dismiss him and fell asleep, swearing I could hear a muffled, "prat."


	3. Chapter Two: Dreams and Nightmares

_Chapter Two: Dreams and Nightmares_

I awoke with a rush, climbing to my feet quickly as that familiar feeling of falling settled around me like some sort of protective blanket. It was horrible when the realization of falling and failing were my only sources of normalcy. I wouldn't know how to live if that fact weren't true. To be stable seemed too foreign, too average for my own world. Anything different could not be accepted.

My breathing was labored as I reminded myself of where exactly I had ended. I wondered idly if by some cruel trick of fate that this was all a dream or a nightmare rather. But, taking note of the burning sensation in my forearm, I concluded that this could never be my mind playing fowl tricks, this was reality now. Each day was its own disaster that I would have to live through or die trying.

The latter of the two seemed the easiest.

Luckily, or however you choose to see it, my slight bladder problem had gotten in the way of my self-mourning and I left the claustrophobic room to locate a bathroom.

The Boy-Wonder had forgotten to give me some sort of tour in this maze. How convenient.

Rounding what seemed to be the fifteenth corner, I located something along the lines of a lavatory. The fact that it had the word 'Women' stamped to its front caused me no alarm and I barged in, only to meet a rather confused red-haired Weaselbe.

"Draco Malfoy?" she squeaked, even though I hadn't actually entered the ladies room. "What are you doing here?"

"Please, Weasley let me pass before I have an accident in this hallway."

"What are you doing trying to get into my bathroom?"

"Oh, you own the girl's bathroom? That's fitting of someone of your class and all, but I can't find the men's and I feel as though I can lower myself enough just this once to use your facilities."

She glared with what I knew attempted to be daggers, but it was futile. Not a cut to be found to this day.

"Malfoy," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'll do my best to accommodate you here. Each room has its own bathroom. It would be in your best interest not to wander here. You aren't exactly a favorite guest."

I know that. "And I suppose you are?" I challenged, not knowing exactly why. It was obvious that any Weasley was welcomed.

"Well, considering I'm more or less Harry's girlfriend, I would consider myself a _very_ favorite guest, if you're following me."

Continuing to hold her gaze, with as much grace as I could muster, I crossed my arms over my chest and allowed my eyes to say what I couldn't.

She brushed past me with a devilish smirk, "Watch yourself, Malfoy."

And with that, she was gone, off to do some sort of Weasel mischief no doubt. The family was entirely too loony for their own good and if it was at all possible in this overly cramped home, I wouldn't find myself associating with them at all.

It seemed difficult to ostracize myself from the entire house. It wasn't as if I weren't alone my entire life. Mentally, not physically. I'd always had my 'minions' so to speak. I had always had professors and nannies, and tutors to make sure I received the greatest of educations. I suppose friends didn't exist in the truest form, but friendship requires trust and who better to trust than yourself? Who could compare?

I relieved myself, verbally making reminders that not all of the Weasley family was diseased and I more than likely had not contracted something with the use of their toilet.

Realizing a little too late that this place was much too confusing to wander in alone, I stopped trying to find the room I had awakened in and sat against the wall nearest me. Sitting was probably my greatest idea yet today, and I found that even after my unknown allotted hours of sleep, I was still incredibly exhausted.

The running was catching up with me.

My eyes were falling slowly until the rumble of my stomach caught my attention. I hadn't eaten since two days before this, my nerves getting the better of me before failing. My insides felt as though they were attempting a mass cannibalistic ritual and I was the sacrifice.

A rather boisterous clock, struck ten times, enlightening me of the hour.

It was no wonder that I could hardly stand, I'd slept the entire day away, missing every meal imaginable. But, my insides wouldn't tolerate that.

Willing myself to stand, I followed a path I didn't know down three flights of steps and into a rather large room. I suspected it was some kind of meeting hall, or eating hall, or some kind of gathering room. But, what was more pressing at the moment was the location of the kitchens.

A smell erupted into the room like a thousand year dormant volcano to my nostrils. My nose led the way and before I could retreat, I found myself standing behind a man, facing a stove and humming something inaudible, a delightful sizzle providing accompaniment to his song.

My mouth unconsciously began to water while my eyes closed, drinking in the indescribable scent.

"Malfoy?" someone asked.

"Hm?" I responded, still trapped within my own sensations.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

My eyes ripped open, finally recognizing the voice. "I was famished Potter and proceeded to leave our room to eat. I hadn't realized that this place was practically impossible without a map."

"Well, you're welcome to eat with me, I've made plenty and as for earlier, I thought you could still use the rest, you look terrible."

Why, of all the rude, impolite, ghastly things to say! I most certainly did not look anywhere near terrible.

I sneered and regained composure. "Speaking of terrible, what is that dish that we're going to be eating?"

Looking down at his pan, his eyebrow quirked. "It's bacon Malfoy, you've never had it?"

I shook my head, not realizing how ridiculous the fact was. I'd heard that bacon was fattening, and I wasn't allowed the food at my technical home.

He smiled then, a kind of smile I thought would be equivalent to a child on Christmas holiday, finally receiving the toy he'd waited for all year. I wasn't sure, but I could imagine.

"Then you are in for something. Go sit down, I'll bring it out when I'm done."

I turned to leave, before my judgment had gotten the better of me and suspected something of a plot against the Death Eater.

Potter seemed to notice, but still did not turn away from his project.

"You can trust that I won't poison your food. I swear that you're as safe as any of my other guests when you're around me."

I nodded once and left the kitchens, wondering how he had known about my sudden fear, and ignored the idea immediately when some kind of concoction was brought out.

"It's a BLT, a muggle sandwich. I really think you'll-."

No sooner did the plate touch the table did I begin eating, probably looking like a pig, I finished the sandwich in six bites, noting that I hadn't let Potter finish his sentence and declaring that I didn't care by not asking him after I was through with my minor condition of self eating.

To my surprise, the Gryffindor didn't mock my obviously starved reaction. He ate beside me in silence. Not an awkward quiet, but an expected one.

"So, I trust you slept well," he stated assumingly.

I shrugged. "I suppose it could have been worse."

The silence continued. What were two boys who could hardly be considered acquaintances talk about? I reasoned that that answer was absolutely nothing.

He stood when finished, taking my plate from beneath me and disappeared through the kitchen doors. I could hear the water from the sink running and rolled my eyes at the thought of Potter washing like a muggle. How utterly plebian.

After returning, he cleared his throat and brushed his messy locks from his forehead, giving me the briefest glimpses of his most famous scar. A chill ran through my spine without permission, and I tensed.

"Something the matter, Malfoy?"

Leave it to Potter to notice even the slightest discomfort.

"I'm fine." My teeth clenched, making my jaw rigid. "Thank you for the dinner." Without the hiss, it could have been friendly, but thanking anyone was so normally out of the picture for me.

Potter grinned again and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his denims.

"It's not a problem. You could probably use a few pounds anyway and I hardly ever cook with healthy intentions."

Was he insinuating that I was too thin? The nerve of that parentless barbarian! I wasn't thin, I was lean, and there is quite the difference.

"Do you think you need help finding the room again?"

"Yes," I answered with minimal hiss. Accepting help from Potter was one thing, but continuing to need him for such mundane tasks seemed ludicrous.

It seemed as though Potter knew this building like the backs of his hands.

"It kind of reminds me of Hogwarts," he said suddenly, reaching the top of the third floor. "All the secret passages, the way the different rooms seem to come from nowhere."

I agreed wordlessly and continued to watch Potter's footsteps. He walked strangely. Not like the klutzy first year I'd remembered in a somewhat fond way. No, now he strutted with a boy's confidence. There was play in his step, something that reminded me of a childhood I'd never had, and judging his recent history, a childhood he probably couldn't remember.

"Not that I mind muggles, I grew up with them. But, it's nice to live here. It's nice to have somewhere where you're not the 'freak.' We're all the same."

A tone of relief lingered in his voice, and I wondered for the smallest moment about his personal life. Surely it was something of fairytales. He being the hero and all, he must have had the life of dreams. He probably grew up on a rainbow, judging by his always so pleasant character. Sure, he always had a short temper, but I was never one to not exploit a minor weakness.

"Here we are."

I was certain that I still knew of no way to find this place, but as long as Potter kept at a close distance, I probably wouldn't lose myself.

I entered first and crossed the room, sitting at the edge of my bed. I wasn't tired. I'd slept an entire day away.

I turned to find Potter summoning a door to a bathroom I hadn't known existed earlier.

"Oh, I'll leave this here from now on. Until they give you your wand back and you can bring it up yourself."

"Why do you hide it in the first place?"

"I don't know. I like having a solid room I guess."

I suppose that was some kind of response.

Potter emerged from the hidden room in a pair of pajama bottoms tied loosely around his hips, the bones jutting out just enough to notice. And he thought I was thin.

Well, it wasn't as if the tangled haired git was too thin. He had a build that was perfect for a Seeker, aerodynamic, built for speed. He only seemed fitter than I because of the slight tan to his skin.

"If you need something to change into, the drawers are charmed, just tell them what you want and they'll most likely have it. Clothing that is."

"I think I'll have a bath actually."

That idea sounded perfect as I peeled back the clothing I had been wearing for nearly two days now. It was only then that I noticed the smell I was carrying around with me throughout the day. Disgusting.

The bathroom was rather large in my judgment, holding two shower stalls and a tub about half the size of the prefect tubs at Hogwarts.

Warm water always seemed to keep me relaxed for a few minutes. And I was nothing if not on edge at that moment.

While soaking, my muscles had gone nearly lax and I was able to analyze the situation at hand.

There was no doubt that the other Death Eaters were looking for me, and if they hadn't figured out exactly where I'd hidden, they _would_ find me. It was only a matter of how long until they did. This Light side was made of students and a few rebellious adults. They couldn't come close to comparing to the raw power of Voldemort and his followers. I hoped that the people of this side weren't as mindless as the others. Voldemort could make them do anything without asking. He'd done horrible things, in front of me, to me. But, the worst, I couldn't even begin to imagine.

For now though, I was safe. And as the water cooled around me, I understood that my protection was as limited as this warm water. Time was fleeting, and no one but me cared if I lived or died. I had to do something, and soon.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I tiptoed back into the bedroom and noticed a sleeping Gryffindor. He was so vulnerable in that moment, so easy to defeat, and if I had wanted to, I could have made this the end of him.

Instead though, I whispered for a pair of green pajama bottoms and boxers. The drawer opened with what I'd asked for and I settled after changing onto the bed. The full moon lit the room entirely in an eerie glow while Harry stirred.

From the small whimpers, I deducted that he wasn't a sound sleeper. I wondered if his nightmares were at all like my own. No, they couldn't be. I'm sure he dreamed in peace, while I dreamed of struggle, survival. Terrible things plagued my nights. It was only after extreme exhaustion that I could escape the nightmares.

I would resist sleep for days at a time if I knew it led to a dreamless unconscious state.

The Boy Who Lived finally settled with a rather loud sigh. I looked over to find he had kicked most of his blankets away and held his arms atop of his eyes. It was a curious thing to see. He hadn't wanted to be trapped, but he was still attempting to hide. Very strange indeed.

I began to count the seconds and listen to Potter's mostly even breathing.

I wouldn't sleep at all that night.


	4. Chapter Three: What You Don't Know

_Chapter Three: What You Don't Know Can't Hurt._

"So, you were supposed to kill Dumbledore? But, you couldn't… And Harry still took you in? He really is a hero."

The sound of a knock resounded through the room, catching the storyteller and his listener off guard. Draco made no move for the portrait's entrance, too lost within his own head.

Davis rose to his feet, still at an age where manners mattered and opened the portrait door, finding a rather flushed young woman standing there, her hair as bushy as it was long, framing her face and thick eyebrows that rose higher than the bangs that sat gracelessly over her forehead.

"Davis," she breathed heavily, as if just completing a marathon. "Come on! We're going to be late for the party. If we get there and strategically place ourselves just so, I'm about ninety three percent certain that we can find ourselves in a picture with Harry Potter in the Daily Profit tomorrow morning."

Something about the precise measures of her tone brought Draco back to the present or the past rather.

"Lewis is already down there. You know how he can be with free food." She rolled her eyes and looked over Davis' shoulder to his company. "Are you still able to go?"

Davis glanced over at the boy that hadn't moved and subconsciously bit his lower lip in thought. "Give me a minute Jess, I'll be there, I promise."

She nodded and flew towards the staircase, climbing up from the chilling dungeons.

Draco sat as still as a statue, the only sign of his life being the rise and fall of his chest.

"You're going to Potter's Victory feast, I suppose," he stated matter-of-factly, not a question, purely fact.

Davis nodded. "Yes, it's said to be one of the grandest occasions of the year. You aren't attending?"

The hope in the boy's voice wavered as the silence commenced. "Perhaps I'll arrive later. Believe me; it will be hours before anyone considers leaving."

The younger boy's smile reappeared at Draco's words and he made leave for the party, stopping just before he closed the portrait door.

"If you wouldn't mind finishing your story later, I would love to hear how it ends." His voice was almost pleading, and Draco, with a small grin towards his younger roommate, agreed.

When the door closed, the blond slumped back into position, his knees coming to his stomach and supporting his chin. He sighed, and clamped his eyes shut, remembering bits and pieces of his story that he wouldn't be able to share with Davis. Not because he didn't want to, but he was bound, bound to the secret.

"_This is what I am, Draco. What I've always been. It wasn't as if I was hiding. No one was really looking here." Harry smirked, a threatening look grazing his usually so calm features._

Draco shuddered at the memory.

"I know what you are Harry, but I've only ever wanted what you were."

:::

Davis paraded around the Grand Hall's floor in search of his friends. Spying them immediately, he sprinted to the table of refreshments and laughed whole heartedly as Lewis lost some of his treat onto his robes.

"Oi! I just had these cleaned!"

"You are hopeless, do you know that?"

"Well, at least I don't read the dictionary before bed," the messy preteen challenged.

Jessica slapped him gently against the back of his head, causing more food to fly as the three laughed in unison.

"Davis," Jessica finally began after recovering from her giggle fit, "Who was that man you were with earlier?"

"He's a seventh year. He was telling me about Harry."

Lewis' jaw dropped, along with his plate. "Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter? Well, what did he say?"

"His name's Draco Malfoy-."

"I read all about the Malfoy family! Huge supporters of, well, you know…"

Davis waved his hand in disagreement. "Draco wasn't, well, he was, but he changed sides after he almost killed the old head-master. He couldn't though…"

"So, he was a Death Eater?"

Davis wasn't sure of how much information Draco would want him divulging, but he could trust his friends not to breed word of such touchy subjects.

"He was, but only for a brief time before the war. Harry took him in."

"Whom did I take in?" a voice interrupted, and by the look on Lewis' face, Davis could tell without turning that the man behind him was none other than Harry Potter. "I apologize, please, allow me to introduce myself. I'm-."

"You're Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, defeater of Voldemort, Seventh Year, first year Seeker for the Gryffindor Team and Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor Wizard winner."

Harry chuckled at the younger witch's enthusiasm and slight swooning. "I'm sorry I didn't request your background check miss…"

"Jessica Mirth, first year, Gryffindor." She reached for his extended hand and shook it with earnest, nearly crying out from the contact.

"So, Miss Mirth, can you tell me what it was that you and your friends were discussing?"

"Davis has met Draco Malfoy today; he was telling him stories about the war, right Davis?"

The boy nodded, feeling as though this was a horrible idea for reasons he could not quite understand.

"Draco was a wonderful asset during the war. I hope he paints a decent picture of me in his stories, Davis."

Harry left them, and in all the commotion, no one but the three younger students realized that he was gone at all.

_There's so much more than I know_, Davis thought, making an effort to not run after the hero.

:::

Draco flinched when the door to his common room opened. Maybe it had been hours since he moved. Time became a nuisance since the end of the war, and he tended to forget how long he stayed dormant for.

Assuming the presence behind him was Davis, he continued to just watch the fire, unalarmed by the younger Slytherin.

It was only when a pair of arms wrapped around him and a warm chest pressed to his back did he finally stir to reality. He knew the embrace too well.

"Some people are offended when their invites aren't returned, Draco," Harry purred, peppering light kisses to the back of Draco's exposed neck. The goose bumps already began to rise and Draco's heart began to flutter. Whether it was from nerves or terror, he couldn't tell, but he hoped the reaction would die.

"Why haven't you come down to the party? Everyone's there and it's so very boring without you."

Harry continued his assault by moving to Draco's ear, nibbling gently on the lobe before biting down roughly. The Slytherin moaned, mentally berating himself and unconsciously leaned into the toned body behind him.

Mustering enough will power, he pushed Harry away and stood to his feet.

A little shaken by the previous encounter, he cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't fail him.

"You shouldn't be in here, Potter."

Harry could only smile, a smile that told Draco he knew exactly where the blond had really wanted him, and that involved no one at the present moment leaving this room.

The hero took a few steps towards the stubborn Slytherin, and waited for him to back away, loving the idea of a chase.

"You don't want me to leave, do you?"

"Go. Away. Scarhead," he said through a stiff jaw and clenched teeth. "Go back to your adoring fans, let them fawn over a lie."

"And what lie would that be Draco?"

Draco made his mouth move, but no words escaped.

"Ah, that's right; you can't breed word of it at all. Even to that first year you've decided to share _our_ story with." Again, Draco shivered, liking, more than he should, the way the words 'our story' fell from Harry's lips.

"Is that what you came here for? It isn't as if I can break the bond, why do you care if I tell Davis anything?"

"Oh, so the first year has a name. I never knew you cared enough to use first names anymore. Should I be hurt that you could find yourself to befriend him so quickly?"

"Please leave." Draco rarely ever asked for anything, he simply commanded. But, Harry wasn't just anyone. He was the only person capable of putting Draco in his place, the only person who could control him.

Harry closed the space between them, leaving only an inch between their bodies. Slowly, he reached to cup Draco's cheek, reveling in its softness.

"Your skin is perfect," he decided, brushing the offending hair away with his other hand. "So smooth, flawless, pale."

Leaning forward, Draco held his breath. A pair of lips attached themselves to his forehead and he gasped. It was such a sweet gesture that it had almost made Draco forget. But, Harry always had the power to manipulate him.

"I've missed you Draco," he said, ghosting his lips over the blond's.

"I miss you too," he admitted, and he really had missed Harry, his Harry. The one that held him with no motive, the one that told him he was beautiful and worth something, actually meaning it. Yes, he really missed that man.

And as if those were the magic words, Harry crashed his lips to Draco's, sharing the same air. Draco hadn't told his hands to wind themselves into ebony locks, but they had on their own accord, still in wonder of how they could be so soft, and still hold their unkempt tendencies.

The Slytherin could have cried, defeated again by his own weakness. He settled for maintaining the contact and fussing about it later.

Too soon though, the contact was broken as a heavy clearing of the throat sounded.

Breaking the intense moment, Draco practically flung himself from the Boy-Who-Lived, only to be pulled back against his chest.

"Hello, Davis," Harry welcomed with a grin, his voice husky.

"H-hi, I, um, well, got tired of the party. I'm really sorry I interrupted."

"Oh, no, it's quite alright." The flush upon Davis' cheek could almost compete with Draco's if his skin weren't so translucent. "I was just readying myself to leave anyway."

The blond looked up at emerald eyes filled with wickedness.

"Good night, love," he whispered, emphasizing his intentions by placing a chaste kiss to Draco's hair. He let his pointer finger drag over the length of his opposite's bottom lip, satisfied with the heated reaction, and detangled himself, leaving without another word.

When the Slytherin wizards were alone, Draco leaned against a near wall, needing its support more than he thought he ever could.

"Safe to say that you and Harry are a little more than friends."

Draco nodded, shutting his eyes in fear of seeing the judgment in another's.

"I'm sure that comes up later in the story…"

"You would never believe the things that come up."

Davis took a seat on the couch. "After seeing _that_, try me."

The older wizard opened his eyes and followed Davis' lead to the seat.

"The things I'll tell you are for you to know, and you alone. Do you understand?"

Davis agreed and Draco breathed, bringing himself to begin again.


	5. Chapter Four: Defending the Enemy

_Chapter Four: Defending the Enemy_

Potter awoke with a scream, sweat soaking his hair and drenching his chest, creating a pool in his navel. It was a small miracle that I hadn't gagged at the sight.

Dropping the wand that he'd pulled from beneath his pillow in his fit of terror, he ran a trembling hand through his raven locks, bringing back sweat-coated digits.

His breathing was as labored now as it had been during the night, every breath was forced.

"Only a dream," he mumbled to himself, and I instantly felt as though I wasn't supposed to hear his private conversation. He gulped, "It wasn't real."

What wasn't real? The question formed in my head, formed on my lips, but never allowed itself to be known.

"Awake this time, Potter?" I asked, bringing the Chosen One out of the trance he seemed to develop.

"Did I do this a lot last night?"

I laughed humorlessly, "Well, you were a bit more verbal. Quite the talker. I thought I'd have to worry about snoring; no, I get the chatty prat for a roommate."

He didn't respond as I'd wanted him to. I assumed that some sarcasm was in order, and was absolutely wrong. Potter was serious in the morning. Well, at least _this _morning he was.

"Are you, alright?"

He shook his head and stared at a spot on the wall that I couldn't see.

"You wouldn't understand. No one would."

He dragged himself to the edge of his bed and settled his face into his hands. Goose bumps formed on his back where the draft hit the damp skin.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked suddenly, distracting himself I assumed.

"No, I didn't sleep at all actually," I said. "It'll probably take me a while to sleep normally."

"I understand."

Distraction…

"Potter, could you bathe or something? For Merlin's sake, I can smell you from across the room, you smell like you ran through miles of filthy laundry. You positively reek."

He lifted his arm and smelled himself, smiling after finally looking at me.

"I guess I should probably smell decent for breakfast."

"Does Molly cook meals that humans can eat? I'm not interested in Weasel infested slop."

The Hero actually laughed then, pulling himself to the standing position and disappearing into the no longer hidden bathroom.

It didn't surprise me that he could be manipulated into forgetting his worries so quickly. He was brainless anyway. But, I wondered if he was always so easily persuaded to other directions. Were the others as clever as I obviously was?

I walked to the dresser and requested a black sweater and dress pants, shocked at my own awe at the item's abilities.

The clothes fit as perfectly as if they were my own, and I searched in vain for a mirror in this lacking room.

"I didn't think you could look any paler," Potter deemed, towel drying his hair and tossing the wet cloth back into the bathroom.

"For your information, black is a very flattering color on me."

"If you're going for the albino look I suppose."

I scoffed, the nerve of some people. "I'll have you know that I am absolutely stunning in anything I wear mister if-I-only-had-a-comb."

"We can't all be as painfully beautiful as a Malfoy in the morning, can we? Some of us are only mortal."

"Says the Boy-Who-Won't-Die, but I'm glad you understand."

He chuckled at my attempt at serious humor, but ended abruptly, looking at me in a way that seemed too thorough. When a blush crept to his cheeks, he looked away possibly realizing his almost total nakedness.

"Relax Potter. It isn't as if you have anything I haven't seen before." I rolled my eyes, what were we? Twelve?

His stuttered laugh stirred something strange within my stomach and I retracted my gaze, resuming the workings of the buttons of my trousers.

"Is there a mirror somewhere around here?"

Potter tilted his head, avoiding eye contact, toward the bathroom.

I walked through the door and braced myself over the sink, taking a hard look at the face in the reflecting glass.

Potter looked… different. But, whether that was bad or not, I didn't know then.

His face was worn, tired. His eyes were hard, vaguely showing any reaction; still.

I ruffled through my hair, separating the stuck strands and admitted defeat as the layers fell over my eyes. I would need to cut it soon before it became a problem. My father would never find that suitable for a Malfoy to have short hair. Short hair did not exude elegance and poise. Long, light hair personified class and purity.

Purity, right.

"Well," I breathed, closing the door behind me, "I look stunning, and you…"

Potter had decided to wear a tightly fit dark green colored t-shirt with black denims, his hair in hysteria and his glasses a tinge bit off the mark. His scar was carefully hidden beneath his bangs and he'd taken to standing in the middle of the room as if he were modeling for _Witch Weekly_, awaiting my judgment.

"Well?"

"Look incredibly Potterish."

Whether he'd taken the comment as an insult or no was hardly my concern as I tried desperately to identify exactly how I thought Potter looked in my own mind.

It wasn't necessarily what he wore, but how he wore it. His clothing was simple but flattering, and the style supported his all too precise, I-don't-give-a-damn-what-I-wear attitude. He wasn't flashy because he had no need to be. His confidence and mere presence was enough to silence a room, and without even muttering a word. From the way the green in his shirt pulled the greens in his eyes, those orbs spoke volumes.

And in the way he walked, tall, but almost never making intimate contact, it was as if he knew his impact, but couldn't accept it.

He had so much to work with, and didn't want it. He didn't want power.

Noble Gryffindor.

"Thanks for the compliment." I suppose that answered my first question. "Now, are you ready for breakfast?"

"Should I be armed? I'm going to a room filled with over dramatic wizards that are actually classified as an army."

"They won't touch you," Potter promised. I believed him and we traveled back to the large hall.

There's a reason you shouldn't trust people who are your supposed enemy.

Within thirty seconds of entering, a rather enraged redhead pinned me to the nearest wall, wand pressed into my chest directly over the place where my heart would have been if it hadn't dropped into my stomach.

"Did you kill him you overgrown ferret?" he spat; I ground my teeth and waited for anything to happen.

"Ronald Weasley, you'll put that wand down this instant and sit in your chair. Are you so daft to think that Harry would bring the wizard who killed Dumbledore here? Are you that much of an imbecile?"

I had never been thankful to the mudblood, but as of now, I could have kissed her feet. The wand and the hand around my throat disappeared. I drank in as much air as I could breathe.

"You're on thin ice Malfoy."

"I haven't spoken two words to you since I've arrived and lack any sort of magical abilities without a wand. I apologize for the threat I posed to you Weasley."

He bit the side of his cheek to keep himself in check. Potter ushered me over to a more exclusive table and sat with me, leaving his friends behind him.

"Sit with your team, Potter. I'm fine by myself."

He shrugged. "Ron isn't at all pleasant to eat with when he's so riled up. Plus, he's still angry with me for allowing you to join us in the first place."

"I'm not a charity, Potter. Don't think you're doing me a favor."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Malfoy. Hungry?"

My stomach found its voice and answered for me.

"Good, so am I."

We walked to the kitchen, picking up utensils and plates along the way. It was no Grand Hall meal, but the simplicity of it still radiated a higher quality, something that was made by hand, with care. Something that was made with practice. The way in which mother Weasel crafted her food amongst the house elves was a sight. In the seventeen years I'd existed, I'd never seen my mother lift a finger in the kitchen, unless she was launching plates at the hired help for a less than decent meal.

I filled my plate with an array of different colored foods, earning a small smile from the boy-who-lived.

"What?" I asked, not looking up from my tray. "Have I done something funny?"

"I like the way you color coordinate your foods. None of the colors are touching," he observed, gesturing towards my food as if I hadn't known what the word food implied.

"I try not to live like an unorganized Neanderthal."

"Please forgive those of us low enough to let our foods touch."

"You're not forgiven, Potter."

He shook his head and led us back to our more private table. To be honest, it wasn't very private at all. Every eye fell on us. I'm sure that that fact wasn't registering in Potter's mind, having been under a camera for the last six years. But, as for me, I lived in shadow for the majority of my life. Stares weren't possibly a good thing, especially when they came accompanied with such loathsome glares.

"Hard to eat when you have daggers breaking the skin."

Potter laughed and the sound broke the uncomfortable silence held within the room. That seemed to reanimate those eating and they went back to their business.

"So, we have duel training today. Are you interested? I'm sure we could learn something from someone who was trained by Voldemort himself."

I practically gaped. "Don't say that so loud!"

"Oh, Malfoy, you know that everyone here knows that you're a Death Eater. It isn't a secret."

I pinched the bridge between my nose in frustration. "No, Potter, the 'V' word?"

"Voldemort?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake!"

He must have been in quite the mood this morning, because for some reason I was uncommonly hilarious.

"The way I see it," he began, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice. "If you use a word enough, it tends to lose meaning. Take Hermione for example, you could call her a mudblood at least a thousand times and she wouldn't be fazed."

"So, you're saying that if you say his name enough times, you won't be afraid of it?"

"I'm not afraid of him either way, but yes, it is a theory."

The boy was impossible. He had hardly a clue as to what this other wizard could or couldn't do, and to be frank, his can-do list severely outweighed his can't-do.

"So, were you interested, or no?"

An open invitation, not a command, not a request, but a choice. Something I could end at any given time because it was my decision. Quite refreshing.

"I suppose I'll lend my experience, if only for a while."

His answering smile was one of a gladness I didn't know him to be capable of. It was something I hadn't seen since I'd taken the mark. Potter was… proud? He was proud of me. And he wasn't afraid to make that idea public. It was as if our years of hostility hadn't existed.

I was almost concerned with his quick change in character. Granted, it was much easier to be nice to him when we weren't in school, where houses separated and designated friends. But, I was terrible, am still terrible. For him to feel pride in one that succumbed to the Dark Mark, who followed for a time the thing that wanted him most dead, well, I wasn't quite sure of his sanity.

But, these weren't my questions to ask. I had no right to ask about the inner workings of his mind.

"Would you cease the idiot grinning? I said I'd help."

"Are you finished?"

I shrugged, pushing the tray of food a bit away from me. "Sure."

"Good!" he nearly beamed, and pulled my arm with him towards the doors. It turned out that a rather large and actually impressive training room was practically attached to their hall. Who would have thought that they actually stood a chance?

I didn't.

"I don't know exactly what I can help any of you with. It isn't as if I was trained in any way but to defend the Dark Lord."

"Just do your best, I really think you're going to do well."

Compliments did not sound proper coming from Potty. "I'm not sure why you put any faith in me, Potter. You know what I am."

"I've already told you, I know what you couldn't do," he paused, thinking of what to say, "and that takes courage, Draco."

My name on the other hand, sounded very… strange. Yes, that's what I'd call it until I could find some sort of thesaurus.

"You may have a bit more Gryffindor in you than you think."

What a prick.

The room filled, quiet bits of whispers collecting in the air. I supposed they all wondered what the Slytherin Prince was doing at the side of the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

But, houses didn't exist here, right?

"I'd like to get introductions out of the way considering our new guest had slept the day away yesterday." He produced a knowing grin in my direction and I rolled my eyes, shoving my hands into the pockets of my pants.

"I'm sure you all know Draco. Now, I've cleared him, and he's done about as much harm as any of you in this war."

"Aside from killing Dumbledore," Weasley interjected haughtily. I bit my tongue. But, of course that wasn't enough to hold anything back.

"I didn't kill the old man you raving lunatic!" Stepping in a pace that was much like a sprint, I sprung for the red haired Gryffindor, only to be pulled back by none other than the Hero.

"You'll get yourself hurt," he whispered so that I could only hear. "He may not kill you, but he'll damn sure get as close as he can possibly get before his conscience gets in there. Relax."

The rage subsided quicker than I thought possible. Great, Potter gave off a calming aura as well.

_Bloody brilliant_.

"No, Ron, he didn't kill Dumbledore. He refused it. Do you all hear that? A direct order from Voldemort himself and Draco denied it. Much like the rest of you, he's only looking for another beginning. And right now, he knows more about the Dark Lord than any of us do."

I looked over my shoulder to soul shattering emerald eyes, so stern, fierce in their knowledge of the truth, their belief in me of all people. Belief that was enough to stun his oldest followers and leave them gaping in utter disarray.

"If you could desist holding me, I'm not an animal," I hissed, ignoring the way that legitimate pride seemed to settle within my stomach. "I'll relocate myself back to our room. I'm not needed here Potter."

I left the area, hearing a rather whined yet muffled statement before departing.

"Malfoy, wait!"

"I'm not interested in assisting anymore. Please refrain from asking me."

"Listen," Granger began, circling in front of me to cut off my exit. "We're all a little on edge since Dumbledore passed. You can't blame Ronald for his actions. He's stubborn, and he'll never come around fully, but he will get used to you being here. And if anything else, I'm surprised to see you here. I'm glad too."

"Why would you ever be glad to see me? Wouldn't you side with your soul mate Weasel?"

"I'm glad of the change I see in Harry. He's really been alight since you've crossed over. It gives him hope in the fight. He feels that things truly _can_ change." She turned, extending a small grin before disappearing back into the training room.

I'd spent so long trying to change Potter in a negative way, it hadn't crossed my mind that I could be a positive influence.

It had to be a misunderstanding.

But, in the way he defended me, as if I were a friend.

Someone worth the time… well, that notion seemed too great to comprehend.

With that thought in mind, I continued my path, not sure as to where I was going, physically or mentally.


	6. Chapter Five: Second Chances

_Chapter Five: Second Chances_

It had been about a week before the Gryffindor had found the courage to speak to me again. I assumed that he was utterly embarrassed because of his friend's actions and in being the masochist that I am most certain he is, he blamed himself, and only himself.

"We're going on a raid this afternoon for horcruxes," he stated on what I finally knew to be Saturday morning, breaking our bout of silence.

"By 'we,' you're referring to the Weasel, Granger, and yourself."

He nodded in agreement. "I would allow you to come, but I think it's best for your safety to be out of the Death Eater's eye for a while."

"Allow me to come?" I asked haughtily, "Are you keeping me here against my will? As I said, Potter, I come and go as I please."

Green eyes pierced grey. Neither of us withdrew our glare and the silence was deafening.

"Harry," he breathed. "It's Harry when we're here. You don't have to like me, Draco." The boy in question made a point to emphasize each letter of my given name. "However, you will respect me and trust me. That's the only way you'll live under this roof. I expect the same courtesies I give you returned back to me."

I pursed my lips, a wordlessly asking if he was through with his verbal onslaught.

He walked towards the doors of our rooms and paused, waiting for me to respond I suspected.

I had no intentions of delivering that decency.

Turning a fraction, Potter tossed something onto my bed and exhaled heavily.

"I don't think you're a threat to anyone in this house."

The item on my bed was my wand, but I hadn't dared to show my excitement at its return. Living without a wand was torture, something I would never grow accustomed to.

The door closed behind him and I rushed to my unused friend. There wasn't a scratch on it as I let it dance between my fingers, finding its place in my hands again. I didn't want to think of the trouble Potter had to go through to get me this wand. Something told me that it had taken quite a bit of convincing, and a partially stained reputation on Potter's part.

But, it wasn't as if I'd asked for it back! I didn't even complain. I hadn't mentioned ever owning a wand.

"Thanks, Potter," I mumbled under my breath, mainly because I hadn't wanted to hear it at all myself.

The raid today settled into mind. I wondered why he'd cared at all about my safety in the first place. Obviously he'd thought well enough to leave me behind. He probably thought that I was a liability- that I would disappoint. I knew more about where his bloody horcruxes were than he did. Maybe not where, but I had a better idea. It was likely that half of them were in Malfoy Manor for all that anyone knew or I cared to think about. It wouldn't surprise me to find an old Christmas present to be a horcrux.

_Happy Christmas son, tell no one about this… gift._

Thinking about my father implanting this gift upon his still single digit aged son tortured me from within. If your own father can't love you enough to protect you and when your enemy is able to go against what he knows is right to protect you…

"Potter!" I shouted, head spinning. Enough was enough. Living in a place where I was most certainly not welcome, but also a breath of fresh air to its owner made absolutely no sense. The idea was unfathomable. "Potter! Damn it," I muttered the last part, finding myself in the middle of a brand new hallway.

"Malfoy, are you looking for Harry?"

"Yes, She-Weasel." I brushed past her and continued my quest.

"He's already left. You literally just missed him."

The smile I heard in her tiny voice must have been a sneer of the century.

"When will he be back?" I asked through clenched teeth, pulling my fists together.

"Well, seeing that this is their first raid, I'm assuming they won't leave for good. They only took wands, traveling light."

I whipped around quickly, slapping my palm to my forehead. "You _are_ daft, Weasley. Why would you pack heavily if you have magic?"

"You can't trace what you don't use, _Malfoy_. Magic is used during emergencies when they're away from here. We've all discussed this."

"I see." The little Potter Princess was right. "Can you tell him that I was looking for him when he returns?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think that that's the best idea."

"And why is that?" I took a small step forward and crossed my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow in contest.

"I don't like you. I don't like your family, and I don't want you influencing Harry. He's a good person. He's loyal, he'll do anything for anyone and no Death Eater needs to taint him with their filth."

Advice, never tell a Malfoy 'no.'

"Filth? What could I _possibly_ have done to register on your filth list?"

"You're selfish and undermining and despicable. I know Harry believes that you haven't taken part in Dumbledore's death, but you're scum, and I wouldn't believe that no matter the amount of galleons paid to me."

"So, you can't trust your boy friend to make the right decision?" I smiled, the smirk making a comeback almost worthy of a Malfoy.

"No, that's not what I-."

"Ah ah ah," I interrupted. "Thank you for the remarkable conversation, I'll be glad to find Harry on my own."

"He hates you Malfoy! He always has and nothing will change that!" she screeched as I continued my way.

I stopped, just long enough to breathe a quiet_, "I know_."

I knew that with respect didn't come fondness. Potter could respect what I'd gone through, even if he didn't understand. But, that didn't mean that he had to find my presence positive. He could tolerate me in his home without coming even a fraction close to actually caring for me. I couldn't expect the Boy Who Lived to mind me. If anything, the fact that he could bear me was too strange for comfort.

Shaking off the anger left by a shrill Weasel, I nearly trudged the long hallway, halting only when I had found what looked to be some sort of library.

The doors opened easily. And like the rest of the house, they revealed a room that didn't seem to fit. It wasn't nearly as large as the library at Hogwarts, but it was definitely close. Surely they would need a place to store all their information, so why not a library?

I fingered over some of the stray books sitting atop a mostly empty shelf labeled 'lost' and picked at random through the literature.

From out of nowhere, a smaller book entitled, _Cooking for Morons_, _The Muggle Story_, appeared.

Magic, no matter what one tells you, still continues to surprise me with its endless possibilities. This seemed to be a shelf of lost books. When one was considered lost, it would turn here. But, that would then make it the opposite of lost. So, shouldn't the shelf have been labeled, found books?

I wasn't the one to name things around here.

One book in particular stood out amongst the dust-covered novels. It was a dark blue with golden edges to the pages inside, tied together with a charmed leather string- a journal of sorts.

The letters 'H.J.' were inscribed on the back. Looking around, I found that no one was near and quickly tucked the small book into my shirt, curious as to whom it belonged to and what existed inside.

I made my way to the hall, realizing that I had missed breakfast in my escapades and settled for an early lunch, sneaking to the kitchens for something to eat.

Silently, I cursed the elves and their neatness, not leaving a scrap out of place, forcing me to create something of my own.

Cooking had to be somewhat like potions, with recipes and all that nonsense. It couldn't be too difficult.

I was horribly mistaken.

About a half of an hour later, I was covered in flower, pumpkin juice was spilled on the tile and about a pound of butter continued to melt on top of the counter.

"For the love of magic…" I groaned, not having a handle on anything in this hazard. "There has to be something in here," I promised myself, searching through the cupboards.

Finally, I stumbled upon a box with the phrase 'Fruit Loops' decorating the front. It smelled decent when opened, and tasted… odd. It was entirely sweet, and the round pieces tasted nothing like fruit. In fact, it was like eating candy, crunchy candy.

I was taking the pieces in hand full's and finding myself rather intrigued with the facts on the back of the container- curious as to what was so important about this thing called 'fiber.' Before I'd realized it, the box was empty and only sugar existed at the bottom of the plastic bag holding the food in place.

It seemed as though I could get used to this muggle food quickly.

Casting a quick cleaning charm, I left the kitchen and sat at a table nearest to the Hall's doors.

I removed the book and planted it on the table's top.

"Whom do you belong to?" I asked it, knowing no response would be made. "Someone here I'd presume."

Again, I waited for an answer that wouldn't come.

"Perhaps Granger? No, that couldn't be right. She's never struck me as one who would keep a journal. Weasel? No, he most likely can't write. Any of them for that matter, bloody pounces."

I stared, silent as I thought.

"You couldn't be Golden Boy's? He wouldn't keep something in writing, would he?"

How preposterous. That kind of information could ruin him. His secrets, written, could be the worst, most incriminating act for him.

"What Voldemort could do with something so revealing…" I broke in speech, watching as the tie untangled from its knot.

What had I said?

Print began to form on the pages, chicken scratch, and without doubt, Potter's handwriting.

I skipped to the end of the book and noticed the date was in fact recent, recent enough that I was actually involved with its contents. My name appeared about half way through the page:

_I finally found what the hex could do today. Not in a way I would have liked. I think I really hurt him_, it said. I continued reading. _I didn't mean to. Honestly, I knew that he was up to something, and he would have hexed me if I hadn't done it._

_There was so much blood… Malfoy was dying quickly in front of me. Snape came and saved him, I think. I hope I hadn't left any permanent damage._

_He was up to something. I doubt he's given up on it. After some time with Pomfrey, he'll be back to it. Maybe I shouldn't pry. It isn't as if he's bothering me anymore. I'm quite sure we're even at this point. It's strange to not argue anymore. And to think that the first time I've actually spoken to him this year was due to this private duel…_

_Malfoy was crying when I found him. Something's going on. I know it is. If the pureblood can't handle life, there's something dreadfully wrong here. I just hope I'm not too late in finding out._

I closed the book and slid it away from me, taking my hand and tracing the scars that decorated my chest beneath my shirt.

Oh yes, I remembered that day.

The day I nearly died, the day I found out how painful it really was. I couldn't let that happen to me, and most certainly not to my family, thus putting me into the situation I was in. Voldemort's puppet. I realized that I could never go through that kind of torture again. And if Potter could supply that much power into the unintentional wounds, I could only imagine what the Dark Lord could do with all of the intentions in the world to cause me continuous discomfort.

But, Potter hadn't meant to hurt me. And I needed to give the boy credit. He wasn't nearly as foolish as I took him for. His words seemed frightened for me, even when he was certain that I was up to no good.

Damn nobility. Was it a trait in every Gryffindor? Maybe it was only a Potter trait. That made the most sense. Weasley could dance on my corpse and his entire family is made of the Lions. Potter's different. He always has been.

The only one to challenge me. The only person to ever tell me I was wrong. He gave people strength with his love for them- it just seemed to radiate. But, I wondered. He's gone above and beyond a seventeen-year-old student's duties. Is this what he wants? The heroism? The worshipping? He never looked comfortable in the spotlight. During the Tri Wizard Tournament, he was afraid. Even in nomination, which was utter bollocks, he was petrified. His smiles in the pictures were always forced.

I had to admit a certain admiration of that. He was too modest. I couldn't be modest if I tried. Not that I would.

Digressing, I pulled the book back and started at the beginning.

I was sure that it would prove to be all too interesting.

:::

I hadn't realized how much time I had actually spent in one place until the loud and obnoxious voice of Weasel and the ever-condescending voice of Granger was heard.

"Ronald, if you ever pull another stunt like that, I will personally castrate you, do you understand?"

Ouch. Who knew the witch was so violent, oh right, I did. One broken nose taught me that in a previous year.

"All right, Mom," he said. I could imagine his eyes rolling back into that thick skull.

Barging through the doors, I was welcomed with a slight smile and a hard glare. You can decide which belonged to whom.

"Hello, Malfoy. Did you have a pleasant day?"

I smiled back at her. "It was enlightening to say the least. And yours?"

"Just fine, thank you. Right, Ronald?" The boy grunted. How mature.

"Wonderful. So, where's our little hero? I'd missed him this morning."

"Oh, he's completely drained actually. Up in your rooms I would wager. I'm hoping he'll be awake for dinner. He hasn't been eating well lately. Worried I suppose."

Genuine concern sat deeply in her voice. It was refreshing to see someone care.

Finally finding my bearings in this maze, I located my room with only a few minor direction troubles.

I didn't bother knocking as I entered. It was, after all, my room as well. I was greeted by a severely sleep deprived Boy Who Lived, collapsed on the bed and mumbling incoherencies.

Luckily, I had no patience.

"Potter, wake your arse up this instant! I mean it! Wake the hell up!" I jumped onto his bed and shook his shoulder roughly.

"What? What's wrong?" Potter asked, darting to his feet. "Draco, what's happened?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to ask you a few things."

"You woke me to chat?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

"I thought that I'd made that quite clear."

He breathed in heavily and closed his eyes, stilling himself from creating a scene.

"Go on," he hissed. The patience it must have taken him…

"I, well, I was wondering-."

"Get on with it!" he finally broke, "Either say what's so important or please let me rest."

I momentarily stilled. I knew what I'd wanted to know this morning, but the questions didn't seem important. Potter had no motives. He was pure and I was only suspicious in thinking that allowing me safety beneath him was all for his own gain.

By the looks of it, nothing he did was for his own gain.

"Thank you Pott-… Harry," I tried, cringing at the sound.

He looked up then, his face obviously surprised, but also worn out, tired, listless. His skin had paled significantly since I last remembered it.

"For what?"

"For taking me in, getting me my wand back…" I breathed, "Not treating me the way you should."

He sat back down against the edge of the bed, running his hands through his chaotic locks. His glasses were crooked from sleeping with them on.

"I know it must have taken some persuading from you, and I appreciate your efforts. I probably don't deserve them."

He smiled then. I could see it through his hands as he supported the weight of his head.

"Everyone deserves a second chance if they're willing Draco. You're no exception. As far as I'm concerned, this rivalry is nowhere near as important as what's going on outside. We aren't children anymore, and to be honest, I'm not sure if you or I ever were."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

His lazy smirk struck me in an odd fashion as he curled back into his bed. "We have plenty of time to understand each other. For now though, I can't tolerate another ounce of consciousness."

"I'll leave you be then," I said.

_I have more of a book to read anyway._


	7. Chapter Six: Acceptance

_Chapter Six: Acceptance_

I learned quite a bit about the savior within the next month. Most, granted, was from his personal journal, but some of it had been from mere observation.

I could now decipher his 'thinking face.' He would crinkle his nose a fraction of an instant, and then the left side of his mouth would lift ever so slightly. Then, as if someone else could read his mind, he would look up at full attention and scan the room as if someone were watching him. He would finally write it down, instead of just magically recording the memory.

I swear, sometimes I think that he forgets his power.

I could also see when he was doing something because he honestly wanted to, or if it was simply required of him. If he hadn't wanted to complete the task, while being asked, he would make no eye contact. His vision would be dead, almost robotic and straight-ahead. He would either nod or grunt a response, agreeing to whatever was asked. If the person asked if it was okay, he would normally respond with his trademark, 'I'll handle it,' and go off to do whatever was needed, usually sulking the entire way. Shoulders slumped, eyes to the ground, mind in a clutter, or so I imagined.

It was when he actually wanted to do something that was an odd sight.

He would contemplate the idea at first. Harry would worry his lip and normally drag his right hand through his already chaotic mane. When he decided that what was asked was brilliant, his face would lighten and his shoulders would fall into a relaxed state. His eyes would almost glow in their anticipation of completion or attempt. Harry wouldn't sulk then. No. One could argue that there was a rather girlish skip in his step.

But, that was very rare to see.

This place seemed like a prison for him. A bitter-sweet prison. He was safe while inside, but trapped, and judging by his sleeping habits, he didn't appreciate being trapped.

Yes, I'd started to watch Harry sleep. Something had to occupy my time since no one had ever requested my help aside from Granger and Harry. And, Harry was interesting to watch. He was such a thrasher. And when he wasn't thrashing, he was talking. Sometimes he'd have half a conversation with Dumbledore. Sometimes there would be dialogues with Sirius. Even at times, he would call for me. But, that was never a good thing. He was normally asking me to stop. I assumed it was another Dumbledore nightmare, and I would never dare to ask him to revisit those memories while awake.

If he made it out of this alive, he would need professional help.

Harry was alone, as I could tell from my readings. Apparently he'd been mentally and physically abused by his muggle family. He'd grown up beneath the stairs in a closet, living off of some oaf of a cousin's left-overs and hand me downs.

Even I hadn't had it as terrible. At the very least, I had parents that existed- a family that took care of physical needs. Even if emotional was the last on their minds, I was still adequately provided for.

But, for all of his troubles, Harry was much stronger than I knew a person to be capable of.

During our first year, when I'd attempted befriending the little twit, it turns out that it wasn't out of hatred, or distancing himself from the 'wrong sort' that he'd turned me down. He was doing it to prove a point.

_I didn't want to make enemies already_, the passage read. _But, someone should help this kid learn his place. His name is Draco I believe. Well, at the very least, I'll be there to settle him down. I've known him for all of a minute and can already almost vomit from his arrogance. I wonder if all wizards are like this. It really doesn't seem possible. Maybe it's a Draco thing._

And he did keep me in check. As hard as it was to admit, Harry balanced me out, he always had. I guess that every action has its own reaction. I think that's some kind of muggle expression. But, for every good, there must be an evil. For every Malfoy, there must be a Potter. Simple science.

It was incredible that I hadn't the same affect on him as he of me. None of the passages reflected any of the same emotions. They were almost, indifferent, only memories to write. They were opinions and if anything, the passages were worried. Almost all of them were.

This obviously was no surprise, considering the fact that Harry would probably worry for a broom if it happened to be lying on the Quidditch Pitch for over an hour on its own.

It would take me months to read everything that Harry has written. He had an entry for every day for the past six years. They weren't short by any means, but that again gave me something to do in the odd hours of the night and day where I was plagued within my own mind.

A month or so may have passed after finding the journal before I was asked for assistance. To my surprise, it was Granger that requested it.

"Malfoy," she began, confident in her voice. "I'd like to practice dueling."

At the time, I was skimming the pages of Harry's journal in plain view, having conjured its cover to look as if it were a Dark Arts History textbook.

"Why don't you practice with the lot of them?" I suggested. "I'm sure the ever violent Weasel would love to match up against anything with a pulse."

She chuckled at my non-attempt at humor. "He won't duel me properly. And Harry is too busy. I need someone who won't be afraid to knock me on my arse."

"How about the Weasel sister?" It wasn't as if I hadn't imagined beating the witch at something, but I was busy, could she not tell?

"She's busy fawning over Harry. I can't get a word in edgewise, let alone a hex."

"So, I'm a last resort?"

Her face fell along with her nod. Honesty must run rampant in her genes.

"Well then," I started, placing a mark in my book and removing myself from the sill I'd taken to sitting in. "Let's get to it. I'd be glad to push you around for a few hours."

Her face brightened. "Excellent!"

"I suppose we can stay here. I'm assuming your training room is filled to capacity."

"Accio Draco's wand!" she shouted, holding out her hand as my wand nearly sprinted to its outreach.

"I was hardly ready, Granger!" I fumed, holding out my own arm in order for her to give it back to me.

"I know, I just wanted to see your reaction," she tossed the wand to its rightful owner. "It was worth it."

While laughing, she didn't notice in the least that my wand was now pointed at her and that she was being lifted into the air.

"Malfoy! Put me down this instant." I whipped my wand down harshly and stopped just before her body made contact with the ground. She placed her feet carefully onto the tile and glared. "Fine, we're even."

I grinned. Good.

Wands at the ready, we began exchanging blows. And for all of the politeness I was witness to on a regular basis here, I wasn't ready to fathom exactly how quick this witch was. Her book of spells could seriously have dented a rather large hole in my own.

It was a wonder that someone as brilliant as she could settle for someone like the Weasel.

After what only felt like moments of actual normalcy, we called a truce, laughing at the distractive curses we'd hurled at the other. She'd changed my skin to a lime green, while I'd transformed her hair into a colorful mullet.

When the curses faded, we sat at the sill I'd been at all along, glancing out at the yard where it seemed that Harry was showing the she-weasel some kind of illusion charm. He was producing foggy images of butterflies that were fluttering around the redhead as she giggled in utter giddiness. I was almost disgusted had it not been for the genuine smile that Harry was providing. I hadn't thought that smiles could be contagious until Granger noticed.

"You should be careful."

"With what?" I asked, never looking away.

"People might think you actually like being here with that silly grin on your face."

I shook my head, letting some of the hair fall to my eyes. "If you tell anyone this Granger, I'll split your lip. I'm not afraid to hit a woman."

She nodded with her own smile for me to continue.

"It's nice to see him happy. Even if it is with that thing."

"You don't think that he and Ginny would go well together?"

I sucked in a breath, wondering why that idea was so disgusting in my eyes. "Well, considering that that's where they are, I don't have a say. I don't think she's good enough for him."

Granger seemed surprised. "Then, who would be?"

I shrugged. "He needs an equal. Someone who can challenge him. Someone worthy of his time. Someone who's been through as much as he has. Someone smart and brave and ready to stand beside him instead of follow him."

"Someone like you?"

"Yes, exactly, someone like-." I stopped dead. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, Draco, it's just so funny to see your reactions when in some kind of rant. I do it to Ronald all the time."

I snorted sarcastically. "Speaking of 'Ronald,' please explain to me how someone like you can fall for such a beastlike creature."

She shrugged and looked out the window herself. "He's not always what you see. No, he isn't smart, or articulate. He rarely says the right thing. But, I'm a believer of fate, Draco. I don't think you choose who you love. You don't need a reason."

"How Gryffindor of you."

"How Slytherin of you to disagree," she argued, crossing her arms about her chest.

"Touché."

"I find that Ginny is in love for the wrong reasons sometimes," Granger confided. "She likes his power and his fame. I don't blame her. The idea of sharing that seems overwhelming. But, then again, she seems genuine at times."

"I don't like her."

I must really be comical. "You don't like anyone!" the witch laughed.

"That isn't true. I don't mind you all that much, and Harry's been exceedingly kind to me."

"It's Harry now?" she asked, more humor in her voice. "That's a pretty large step, Draco."

"I suppose I owe him at least that." I probably owe him my life.

"You've both surprised me. I honestly thought that Harry would have turned you away. And I thought that you would guarantee your own dismissal from here by being a total git."

"Well, I can't really disagree with you. Harry and I don't have the greatest history."

Looking back down at the field below, Weasel was just wrapping her arms about the savior, and I unconsciously cringed before turning away.

"You either really dislike her, or really like Harry," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I'll go with the first, Hermione." She seemed a bit put off at the sound of her name. "Sorry, thought I'd give it a try if you were."

"No, it's just odd hearing it. But, you think it's impossible for you to like Harry?"

"Not impossible. But, pointless. Harry can respect me, but I've learned a thing or two while being here, and at school. You don't need to like someone to respect them."

"You'd be very wrong if that was your opinion of Harry."

I returned her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"You should hear how highly he speaks of you. Your progress, your change. He's so impressed with how far you've come."

"I've done nothing."

"And that's more than he ever expected. It takes so much to impress him, and you've earned it. He likes you. He'd like to call you a friend, and probably would if the question ever arose."

I slipped into silence, wondering if I really earned the praise or was being misjudged. Maybe, just like in love's case, friendship wasn't something that needed a reason.

"Come on," she finally broke the quiet, "Let's have dinner."

Upon entering the hall that was already filling, I immediately locked eyes with a rather flushed Weaselbe and sidekick Weasel brother.

"You're more than welcome to sit with us Draco. I don't see Harry down here."

That hadn't surprised me. Harry's diet consisted of water and normally some kind of bread that Granger forced him to eat. He wasn't stomaching much. Even during meals that we would share he would only push his food around his plate and mumble over the ignored grumbling of his belly.

"Thanks, Hermione. But, I think I'll take something up for Boy Wonder."

She eyed me curiously and nodded before smiling softly. "I think he'll like that."

After filling my tray with about as much food to satisfy three Weasleys, I climbed the stairs to my rooms with little difficulty, finding this place to be not such a maze after all.

The door was cracked open slightly and I pushed it lightly as to not alarm Harry.

The efforts were in vain though because Harry was nowhere to be seen.

I laid the tray on his bed and checked the bathroom to be greeted by no one. I then crossed the room to open the blinds of the large window.

Sliding its doors open, I stepped onto the balcony and looked out over the patch of land Harry was practicing on earlier. And sure enough, there he stood, still conjuring foggy objects. Thinking of the ground, I apparated to Harry, appearing much too close for his comfort and wound up with a wand at my throat.

"Whoa, steady, Boy Who Lived. It's just me," I assured, breathing a tad shakily and holding my hands in surrender.

"Sorry," he muttered, returning his wand to his side as I groped at my neck, attending to the sure to be red mark left.

"What are you working on?"

He sighed heavily. "My Patronus."

"Your what?"

"It's a defense spell. I can't seem to keep it long enough. I want to be able to conjure it at any time, but it's difficult to keep steady or even functional unless I'm overly emotional."

His shoulders were slumping in his own defeat.

"You're telling me that the great Harry Potter can't conjure some simple defense spell? You're that remedial?" He looked at me, shocked at my bold attempt to challenge him. "I'm sure that a pureblood like me could do it on the first try. And that, _Potter_, is just another reason that I can call myself better than you."

His jaw tightened along with the hand that held his wand. He was getting increasingly angry.

Good.

"In fact, what were the words? You should at least remember that, shouldn't you?" I began to strut about him in a circle, toying with the wand in my hands. "Oh, I'm sorry. You most likely don't. You have to save room in that pretty little head of yours for images of that ghastly Ginevra." I shuddered. "Please Potter, you're worshipped like a God and you settle for swine. You don't even deserve the title of-."

"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted, stunning me and causing me to fall as a board to the ground. "And it's Expecto Patronum, Malfoy," he spat, a stag jutting from his wand and galloping about the confines of this outer area. He watched, as well as I, in amazement as the creature lingered for minutes.

He looked down at me and if I could have smirked I would have. His face softened and he released the curse.

I stood and was nearly tackled into the ground again by a rather exuberant Gryffindor. Not really sure of this whole hugging business, I let Harry run his course and lightly tapped his back while he seemed to relax further into me.

With a sigh, he relinquished his hold and stepped back, a cheesy grin obscuring his once tired features. I couldn't deny the strange cold feeling that sunk to my bones at the release.

"Thank you, that's the longest I've ever held it for."

"I don't mind helping every now and then, as long as your sappy Gryffindor tendencies don't wear off onto me."

He laughed quietly and placed his wand in his back pocket. "What are you down here for anyway? Isn't it dinner?"

"And I'd thought you'd forgotten. That's precisely why I came to find you."

"I'm not too hungry."

I rolled my eyes. "You're never hungry. So, we'll both go and not be hungry while we eat the wonderful dinner I've provided for us in our room."

"You provided? As in, you made it?"

"Oh, as if, Potter. I'm a Malfoy. We do no such things. But, bringing it to you should be more than enough service."

"I suppose you're right. It's about time you start earning your keep around here," he joked playfully.

"Let's eat before I change my mind and let you starve."

He agreed wordlessly and I followed him back to our room, apparating a fraction of a second after him. After settling into a comfortable silence and eating more than I'd ever seen Harry eat, I sat back and simply watched.

It wasn't long before Harry could feel the stare. He looked up and waited.

"Harry," I said, gathering some kind of courage. "Do you ever miss him?"

He swallowed and contemplated his answer.

"I miss his guidance. Yes. I miss his knowledge. I miss his character. He was about as close to a mentor as I could think of having. But, he's gone. And if I've learned anything from him, it's that it wasn't him that was going to defeat Voldemort. There's only one person who can do that. He would have given his life for this cause, and he has." His shoulders fell again. "Do I miss him? Yes. But, I know that he's fine wherever he is."

"Do you hate Snape for what he's done?"

"He was protecting you. I wish I knew anyone that would do that for me. I can't hate someone for protecting their family. I'll always dislike him though." He chuckled then. "He made school hell."

Like I made his school hell?

"I know you made life as close to hell as you could for me as well." Like he could read my thoughts. "But, it isn't your fault. You were brought up to hate me. So, torturing me was inevitable."

"You can't be so forgiving of everything. I-I broke your nose; I continuously abused you and your friends. I was almost the murderer of your teacher. My family killed your godfather. I have this!" I peeled back the sleeve of my shirt to reveal the mark, something I'd refused to look at, even at the constant calls and painful reminders.

Harry leaned forward and looked at the black ink moving about my skin. Then, gently, he placed a warm hand over it. I gasped in a whisper and held my tongue, allowing Harry time to formulate an explanation.

"I almost killed you, so I think we're even on the physical torture," he said almost as quiet as a breath. "And as for mentally," he continued, lightly tracing the patterns of the mark, "I think this is enough of a reminder of mistake. You don't need me beating you up for something you hadn't chosen for yourself. You did this to survive. And that's the most important thing about this war. Surviving."

He recoiled his hand and my arms pulled along with it before I ripped it back to my person.

"You're not a bad person, Draco. You've only made bad decisions. And seeing you here tells me that you're trying to make up for them, and that's all the proof I need."

His eyes bled sincerity and I could only nod in response as my chest swelled in an unknown emotion.

Acceptance is a funny thing.


	8. Chapter Seven: He'll Be Alright

_Chapter Seven: He'll be All Right_

Draco sat, his chin on his knees and a saddened smile tainting his paled features. He was hardly aware of his company on the couch behind him. Draco was becoming consumed by the memories.

_And I might let them have me this time_.

"So, Draco," Davis yawned, stretching his left arm over his head and hearing the bones crack back into a comfortable place, "then what happened?"

The boy was still transfixed, only noticing the slight crackle of the dying fire. He hadn't seemed to even breathe in the time that Davis waited for a response.

"Draco?" he called, hoping to draw the blond Slytherin out of his haze and back to whatever reality was occurring at the time. "Draco?"

"Oh," he stirred. Draco looked around the room, recognizing now that he wasn't in the room that he and Harry once shared. He was in the real world, the chill of the dungeons told him so, the absence of his heart, told him so. "Sorry, what were you asking?"

"What happened next?"

Draco thought, scratching his forehead to relieve the oncoming headache that was surely caused by his memories. He lowered his knees and leaned back, using his arms to hold himself upright, only now noticing his exhaustion.

"Perhaps we can save the rest for another evening, Davis. All of this 'reminiscing' is starting to tire. Can we call it a night?"

Davis heard the pleading in his voice and paid note to the dark circles about his eyes. He'd known that Draco hadn't slept well having had a room so near to the boy in question. He was positive that he couldn't relate to what Draco was going through, but he could at least see the struggle and do what he could to make the load a bit lighter.

So, he nodded, accepting Draco's idea of ending the evening. He stood from the couch and offered his hand to the boy sitting against it.

Draco looked at the hand in front of him and felt himself tense. It reminded him of a backwards memory, an offering that never happened, an offering that this young Harry look alike shouldn't be making. Draco shook his head, hoping to remove the memory along with it. Refusing to let the past control his future, Draco took the younger Slytherin's hand and stood on his feet, dropping the offered hand quickly.

One step at a time.

"You should get some sleep," Davis said, looking up at the boy towering over him. "You look like you could use it."

Draco grinned at this mere child's attempt to tell him what he should be doing. He was so blunt about his advice, much like Harry was. It was almost as if he were playing parent to this obviously lost soul, and Draco couldn't help but go weak at the gesture. It felt too long since he'd received advice from someone who might care.

"Do you want to stay in my rooms tonight? There's four other beds in the room since you and I are the only one's here," Davis asked, bravery soaking his question.

A Slytherin with courage…

_Too familiar._

But, Draco wanted the comfort of another person in the room. He liked the idea of having someone else only a yard away, in case he needed help from…

From what? Nothing was chasing him anymore. The only thing he ran from was himself, and no one could keep him from that. That was inevitable.

"Sure Davis, I'll stay with you tonight."

Davis smiled and ran towards his room, a boyish hop to his step.

When the Slytherins found the right dormitory, Davis immediately jumped to his bed and fluffed at his pillows. Draco chuckled at his enthusiasm and chose a bed nearby.

He settled into the unfamiliar sheets and sighed, letting his eyes fall closed. The silence seemed to drag in the now seemingly congested room.

"Davis," Draco finally broke, rolling to his side to connect with the younger boy. "Tell me something about yourself."

"There isn't too much to tell."

"Oh, there's always something," Draco urged. Listening to people talk had always helped him sleep. His current loneliness probably wasn't helping that at all.

"No, really. There isn't much to tell." Davis breathed, seeming to grow tense at the topic. "I wouldn't know what to tell you. I don't know myself."

"How do you mean?"

"I haven't felt like myself in some time now. I'm not sure who I am. I hadn't even discovered my magical abilities until about a month ago. Not too long before school started."

"Were you muggle born?" Draco asked, interested.

"I don't know. I've never met my parents. I assume the magic had to come from somewhere though. I live with relatives."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Draco said. Something about his background made a tingle go through his spine.

Davis shrugged in his bed, placing his glasses on the table next to him. "It's not your fault. Things have actually been better lately. I've felt like something's there. I'm not as dead as I used to be."

"Dead?"

"Yeah, you've ever felt like you just weren't there anymore? Like something was missing? I don't know; it's almost like always having an empty stomach but not wanting to eat. You know you need something there, but you don't know what it is. And yet, you don't care how incomplete you feel without it. I'm not sure exactly what I've found, but it's a lot nicer feeling anything other than nothing."

Draco looked towards the ceiling. He envied what Davis was. He would give almost anything not to feel what he was feeling, which was utter helplessness. If asked merely a year ago, he'd explain with witty banter about how a Malfoy could never be in a sentence with the word helpless unless the phrase 'is not' existed between them.

"I'll have to disagree. If you feel nothing, nothing can hurt you. You hardly exist at all."

Davis snickered silently to himself. "I'd feel all the pain in the world if it meant never going back to what I used to be."

"How can you say that?" Draco asked, startled at his own reaction to such a simple argument. "How can you want to feel? Feelings get you killed; feelings have you rise only to knock you back onto your arse. Feelings do nothing of positivity. Feelings destroy you."

"No, feelings let you live," he concluded before rolling onto his side, away from Draco. Within minutes, he had settled into a fairly peaceful slumber.

Draco, when finally settling, settled into something much darker.

_The scene was foggy as it played over in his mind. His arms were shaking for reasons that he couldn't understand._

_He was alone while the pain increased on his marked arm. That was being ignored though, there were more important things ahead of him._

_Harry had insisted on walking alone into the forest. Draco insisted on following. He was never one to be told anything to._

_But, as he walked, the pain thickened, spreading to his entire body. One burst of discomfort left him kneeling to the ground, clutching his forearm as if it were some kind of poison and it needed to be removed as quickly as possible._

_It wouldn't die. His vision blurred before his face hit the ground._

_Maybe I'll die here, he thought, writhing against the ground, weeping while horrible sounds escaped his now chapped mouth and horse throat._

_With tears streaking his dirt-covered features, he stood up, forcing the pain away while he searched for the only person that could remove it. Thoughts of Harry pulled him forward, his eyes, his voice, his existence. Every memory kept Draco from falling into nothing again. The pain was too terrible to lose to again._

_Finally hearing something that seemed to resemble his Harry, he stopped and peered ahead, realizing that he'd lost his voice in his throws earlier. His calls were useless as Harry moved closer to him._

_It will be over soon, Draco thought. He'll make it go away._

_That hope lasted a fraction of a second._

_A bright light gravitated towards Harry._

_And he fell._

"Draco, wake up! Draco, come on, come back," Davis screamed, doing everything but slap the thrashing boy beneath him.

Grey eyes opened in panic, sweat pouring from his brow, his chest rising and falling at alarming rates. He looked quickly from left to right, remembering where he was. The grips on his shoulders pulled him to his own reality before he began to sob.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, I can't even forget in my sleep!" he roared, clutching to Davis' sleep shirt and curling it into his hands, leaving crinkled fabric in its stay. "I should have died there! Anything would be better than replaying it again and again." He thrust his face into the Slytherin's shoulder and tightened his grip. He was being torn from the inside. The pain could compare to nothing.

"What happened?" Davis asked, releasing a shoulder to pet some of Draco's dampened hair.

"That's the worst part, I can't say! I'm bound to the secret. I'm physically incapable of repeating it to anyone," he cried into the younger boy's shoulder. "It's too much, I can't- I can't- I can't-."

"You can't what?"

"I can't see him fall again," he muttered, "The first time was torture enough."

"Harry…" Davis deduced, meeting red rimmed grey eyes. Draco was crying his answers to questions he couldn't reveal the truth to. "You don't have to break your oath or whatever, I know it was him. I just don't know what that means yet."

Draco nodded and loosened his hold. Davis took hold of the slightly clenched hands and squeezed tightly.

"Tell me more?" he asked. "In the morning, until then, I'm staying here."

He crawled into the cramped bed beside the sniffling Slytherin and laced his fingers through Draco's trembling ones.

"Thank you Davis," Draco murmured, finding the feel different and familiar at once. But, when wasn't Draco's life completely contradictory?

"Shh," he cooed, moving his thumb in small circles against the skin of Draco's hand. "You'll be alright."

_Maybe I will be_.


	9. Chapter Eight: Can't Help Falling

_Chapter Eight: Can't Help Falling_

Unconsciously, Harry and I became inseparable after the Patronus encounter. I hadn't gone out of my way to spend time with him; he'd simply taken to having me around at nearly all times. Whether it was because I could anger him if need be, I didn't know. I wasn't complaining though. Harry wasn't all too bad after some exclusive time with him.

He continued to surprise me.

No, not with material things, but in himself. He was so simple. He acted, when not completely engrossed in the war, as if everything were his plaything. Harry could be a boy without a care. He treasured everything as if he were a child. He cherished each peaceful moment he could obtain by smiling and laughing, even if nothing was said. I think I nearly envied him for being able to feel such happiness at a time like this. That envy quickly switched to gratefulness when he allowed me to enjoy the simplistic happiness with him.

Harry was undoubtedly self-conscious too. If ever another person decided to complement him on an impressive lesson, or speak to him about how brilliant and self sacrificing he was to take on such a difficult task, he would turn an adorable crimson shade and look towards the floor, ignoring their gaze and shifting uncomfortably from left to right. He'd always thank them and change the subject as quickly as it began, as if he were hiding some flaw that they would find if they focused too intensely.

I couldn't begin to guess where he was flawed.

Harry was beautiful in a sense. I hadn't thought another man, or anyone for that matter, could be beautiful. It was such a strong word to use, and difficult to use when describing a whole. Some people could be perfect out front, but terrible within and vice versa. Harry was beautiful inside and out. Each wound, old or new, told a story to its viewer. Each scar added to Harry. And even the permanent reminders couldn't mar what Harry exuded. Whatever seemed to deter Harry, I couldn't understand. He was righteous, considerate, passionate, careful, brave, and just perfect.

That knowledge didn't disgust me.

And after I'd realized that I could appreciate Harry for who he was, and what he was, I realized that I not only expected and didn't mind his company, but I also had come to want it.

I'd grown accustomed to the Boy Wonder.

The irony of the situation would have alarmed me if I hadn't seen it coming. In truth, I knew that I could easily befriend Harry. It wasn't as if I hadn't tried, my pride simply kept me from putting forth another strain of effort. But, close quarters can change a person's perspective on the people around him.

In the given time to think though, and the time to spend with the hero, I noticed that my perspective really didn't need much altering.

What a surprise, Harry had always had a pull on my opinions, motions, views on the world around me. Usually they were the opposite. I would travel out of my way to disagree with whatever he'd begun to bark about as if it were a mastered sport. And I was, if nothing, a master at creating unnecessary drama with the boy hero.

I think that's exactly when my point had changed. When battling had become unnecessary. Harry had been right; something as trivial as our schoolboy rivalry was nowhere near as important as this war. Everything had to be calculated, mapped out; studied.

It just so happened that I'd taken to studying Harry.

Not in a completely deranged sense of course. Just a simple study, something anyone could do given the opportunity.

For example, I learned that Harry never turned a page with his right hand. His right hand held a book and his left turned the pages. He didn't rely on desks to hold his readings; he preferred to keep them close to his face. I wondered if that was because of his glasses but hadn't had the time to ask.

Harry also hardly used magic. He liked doing things by hand, especially cleaning. I couldn't count the number of times I'd woken from a nightmare to find him on his knees at the edge of the bathroom door- scrubbing away. I'd awake, immediately startled by his absence to find him shushing me back to sleep.

I didn't need to ask why he was doing this. He cleaned to occupy his time.

Sleep was difficult when all you had left were nightmares. I could attest to that. Harry was tired. I saw him crumble a bit each day. And in the nights where exhaustion finally pulled him into unconsciousness, I was there to watch over him. Of course, he'd never asked me too. But, that's what a friend does, right? They watch for the other? I was doing what I could. And if that meant staying awake to keep Harry asleep once a week, I could do that for him. He was already doing so much for me.

It was official- I'd become a bleeding Hufflepuff. Figures, it _would_ take a Gryffindor to change a Slytherin into a mushy pile of feelings.

Didn't see that coming.

But, Harry needn't know that small fact. He didn't need to know that he was probably the first person I seemed to think of when I opened my eyes and the last before they closed again. He also didn't need to know that I began to appreciate the Weasel sister because she could, for some unfathomable reason, break a smile onto his face. Harry shouldn't have to worry or even understand that I've come to see him as my best mate. I suppose that could be construed as pathetic in a way, but I hadn't many friends beforehand. So few actually that Granger was proving to be a close second.

She may have been one of the strangest witches of her time. Hermione actually wanted to be nice to me, despite her beloved freckle-faced Gryffindor boy-hero tag along. He was insufferable. The boy had literally gone insane in his fury for me. I couldn't blame him; it wasn't as if I'd tried to be civil. But, I did try indifference for a while. That seemed to bother him more so.

Not that I cared. The whole lot of Weasels did nothing for me. Aside from Molly. She'd taken to me like some kind of mother bird, hoping to fatten me before I'd learned to fly. She even began to teach me to cook the muggle way. Her advice, as long as you can fend for yourself; a wand is simply a prop. Plus, it did teach a sense of control. With a steady hand, I was learning quickly how to maximize the effects of my spells. I came to find that it was just about the same as potions, only, I didn't have to worry about turning into a toad from the product. It was a soothing hobby, and one that was very appreciated by Harry.

From my findings in his journal, Harry seemed to do everything for his family in the muggle world. A regular house elf. It made sense that he would be entirely grateful to someone who would do something for him for a change.

I never fussed visually over his gratitude. I simply waved him away with some sarcastic comment about his complete lack of class and ineptness.

He could see through that though. For some reason or another, I think he's always been able to see.

:::

"Draco!" Hermione called, skipping in my direction before skidding to a halt. "Can you come with me for a bit? I'd like to ask you something."

I'd been finishing drying dishes from my previous attempt at supper and was rather aggravated that the finished product looked nothing like the pictures.

"I'm busy Granger, does it need to be now?" I huffed, blowing some hair from my eyes.

"Could you spare a second, come one Draco, it's important."

Dropping the plate into the foaming water, and wiping its contents from my hands, I nodded and motioned for her to lead the way, still drying my hands against my trousers.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, trying not to sound completely uninterested.

"Harry wanted to ask you this himself, but I'm not sure where his head's been. We have every reason to believe that a horcrux may be within your manor."

"And you need help with the wards I'm supposing."

She didn't answer, but she hadn't needed to. "I'm asking because Harry doesn't want you thinking that you're here to be taken advantage of."

I laughed then, truly in awe. "Leave it to Potter…"

"So, you'll help, right?"

I shrugged, "As much as I can."

"Good," she beamed. "I'll tell Harry. He'll want to leave as soon as possible."

She darted away, leaving me walking in the opposite direction. I found it strange that Harry didn't want to ask for my help. He surely couldn't do everything on his own. He may have been the Boy Who Lived, but he was still just that, a boy. It didn't make sense that he felt I would think less of him by accepting his request for-

"Oi, watch it, Ferret!" Weasel muttered, rubbing his shoulder where we'd knocked arms.

"It's too bad one couldn't ask you to watch yourself for two seconds, Weasley. We may not have a problem if your leash were shorter." Okay, so maybe indifferent was still a stretch as to my feelings towards the red head.

"As always, a well played insult, Malfoy. Wouldn't expect anything less from a pureblood and second rate Death Eater."

"Well, we all can't be as clean as the Weasley family, can we?" I asked, boring holes into his thick skull. "Watch what you say to me, you need me here."

"If you're referring to the wards on your home, Hermione would have found a way around them."

I shook my head. "Who else would you hate here? Think about it, if I wasn't here, you might actually have to think about directing all that negative energy. We wouldn't want you hurting yourself in that little charade, now, would we?"

"Glad to see you're both behaving," a voice sounded from behind me. I turned to find Harry, slightly leaning against the hall's frame, smiling with an all-knowing grin. He'd probably been there for most of the spat. "Ron, would you mind helping Hermione finish her packing? We'll leave soon."

Weasel nodded and brushed past me roughly. I waited until he was clear of sight before rubbing the spot towards the top of my arm.

"He has the patience of a rabid bull," I commented, earning a soft snicker from Harry. "Funny, Potter? I'll most likely bruise."

"Here," he said, slowly making his way to where I stood. "Let me see your arm."

Harry had been the only person not to shy away from my mark. My arm may as well have been free of any impurity with the way he handled it.

He lifted the sleeve to the tops of my shoulder and ran a hand over where Weasley had knocked into me. On their own accord, my eyes fluttered closed and I bit the inside of my mouth. Harry noticed my discomfort and mumbled an apology for touching too hard. In reality, it was the unnerving gentleness that sent my senses into overdrive. With a quick brush of the fingertips over my mark, he unrolled my sleeve and still kept his close distance.

"I think you'll be fine. Just a bruise if anything." His smile was small, but present, almost mocking me.

"If only Hermione would keep better track of him," I complained, noting that my voice was a bit deeper than I assumed it would sound. I cleared my throat.

"He isn't a dog, Draco. Even if he does act like one."

I liked when Harry could joke about his friends with me. He didn't need to be polite when we were together. Something was nice about getting to see a side of Harry that people normally didn't get to.

"And try not to listen to his barking about the wards. I really do need your help. It'll save us so much time if you help."

"Why couldn't you ask yourself?"

I'd begun to be quite frank with him if I didn't understand his actions. We didn't need riddles, only answers.

"I wasn't sure if you would decide that I had ulterior motives for your presence here."

"Harry, I'm bored out of my mind and almost insulted that Weasley has had more action than me since I've come here. I would help with anything I could."

His lip quirked into a half smile and I looked at my feet. His eye contact was always strongest when there was happiness behind them, and I couldn't compete.

"But, this doesn't make me your lackey," I informed him.

"Of course not," he said, the smile still evident in his voice.

"We're ready Harry!" Hermione called from a room away. I looked up then to see Harry's form alter. It was incredible to watch him prepare for something. It was a completely different person behind his skin when something was near. He became a predator, and I could tell at a brief glance that I wouldn't want to be the hunted.

In moments, we apparated to the manor's gate. With a simple spell, the wards were cancelled and we moved swiftly to its confines.

It hadn't changed in the least.

"I couldn't imagine growing up here," Hermione whispered upon entering. "It's beautiful, Draco."

"Thank you." I'd always taken a sort of pride in my home. It was charming and intimidating. Plus, it was almost impossible to not find your way home with such a vast amount of land. "Home sweet home," I laughed quietly.

"Where should we begin?" Weasley asked, ruffling through some books that were cast along the floor.

"I suggest the master bedroom. Father kept most of his keepsakes in there. On the book shelf I'd wager." I was never to touch the books that existed in there.

Being here was something like a dream. It was so empty without Mother and Father there. I looked around the fireplace area and just stared, picturing myself only a summer ago, flipping through some potions books to catch up before school could start.

A hand grabbed at my shoulder and brought me back to the present.

"Are you alright here?" Harry asked, nearly whispering. "You seem a bit out."

"I'm fine," I lied, "Just reminiscing I suppose."

"I know it's hard to come back to a place with so many memories. Especially good ones if you know you'll have to leave again."

"They weren't all that great, Potter." I always seemed to grow defensive when Harry assumed he knew me. "This place is about as much a home to me as an active volcano would be to a snake. I never belonged here."

"I can understand that," he stated, redirecting his gaze from me to the fireplace. He was close enough to feel his body heat, and that was oddly comforting.

"Can you?" I asked, voice quivering slightly.

He nodded silently. "Yes, I can."

I exhaled a breath I wasn't aware I was holding and sighed. Without warning, a small explosion escaped the fireplace and I jumped backwards, Harry took a stance in front of me.

Bloody hero.

"Harry Potter! It's been too long!"

My aunt stood, in all her horrid glory, wand in hand, and began to laugh maliciously.

"And is that little Draco? We've been searching all over for you, deary! And here you are, hiding behind the great Harry Potter! Oh if only your father were here to watch his son cower behind his enemy!" Her screeching laugh pierced through my ears and sent incredible pain through my arm. It was as if she were a direct tie.

"He is not a coward!" Harry bellowed, throwing a curse I couldn't understand towards Bellatrix. It was quick enough to stun her into dropping her wand. Harry collected it and snapped the piece of wood in half.

"You filthy little cockroach!" she howled. "How dare you break what isn't yours! No matter…"

"Avada Kadavra!" I shouted, pointing directly at her from the floor. Harry stood, transfixed on the sight before him while I walked to where she once existed. "Coward? You wanted to kill a boy? And I'm the coward, Aunt?"

"Draco…" Harry tried, still glued to his post. "I-I didn't ask you to…"

"You didn't have to. I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't wanted to. Nothing good would have come from her living. A short trial would have resulted in her imminent incarceration in Azkaban. I did the world a favor."

He didn't respond. The silence stretched and I began to feel the throbbing pain again.

"Your arm, Draco, it's bleeding."

I looked at the warmth traveling down past my hand and onto the floor.

"Well, look at that," I muttered before falling to my knees. "I think I should get this… checked…"

"Hermione!" I heard before collapsing into blackness.

:::

I awoke in what I thought to be the hospital wing of Grimwald Place. My arm was patched and already decently better than it had been.

"You're awake?" Harry asked beside me. "Wondered when that would happen."

"How long have I been out?" I asked, noticing my horse voice.

"About a day and a half."

"Have you been here this whole time?"

"For the most part. I hadn't much else to do while you were healing." He let his hand slip through his hair. He hadn't slept at all. The bags beneath his eyes were far too dark for comfort.

"You should get some sleep," I advised.

"I wanted you to wake up first," he stated simply. "Didn't need you dying on me."

"Glad to see how much you care," I said sarcastically, doing my best to roll my eyes. "You should try to rest, though. You look like hell."

"It's not really the same room without you in it."

A lump formed in my throat. His honesty was too sincere.

I coughed and rubbed at the cloth on my arm. These silences were going to ruin me.

"Don't scratch at it."

"What happened?" I asked, ignoring his command by continuing to scratch.

He responded by taking my hand and forcing it to my side. "You already ripped a layer off when you fell. It has to heal, so let it. Hermione thinks that when you sent the curse, it was too much power. Your body couldn't handle the force and it began to break through your weakest place. I don't think you would have died, but you could have been extremely harmed if we hadn't gotten you back in time. I'm sorry that I asked you to come; it was stupid of me to think that we'd be safe simply because your family abandoned your mansion. It isn't at all absurd to think that the other Death Eaters would still try to reside there. Come to think of it, it's practically logical and-."

"Potter," I whined, "Stop blabbering about nothing. It isn't your fault. I'll be fine. I'm not made of glass." I slowly made my hand that was free inch over to the hand of his that covered mine. It hurt to move the damaged arm, but I needed to make a point clear. "You didn't do anything wrong," I promised, searching his eyes for what was really terrifying him. "So, quit apologizing for something you wouldn't have been able to stop. You couldn't have stopped me if you tried."

"I shouldn't have asked for your help at all," he repented, dropping his eyes from mine.

"No, you did the right thing. I want to help. I want to do something good for once Harry. I need to make up for what I've done. And for some horribly Gryffindor reason, I like helping you. It makes me feel… better."

Harry laughed humorlessly to himself. It was such a sad noise.

"Oh stop it already with the sulking. It doesn't look good on you at all, Potter."

"Sorry, I just don't want to have anyone hurt while I'm here to help it."

"You can't save everyone," I enlightened.

"But, I can try."

"If you wear that heart any farther out on that dusty sleeve of yours, you're going to lose it."

His smile actually reached his eyes then and I could only smile in return.

"We found a horcrux," he said suddenly, returning to his seat next to my bed.

I sat up, struggling slightly and waited for the rest of the story.

"A locket of sorts. Slytherin obviously. It was hidden in an old book. Very old, very evil."

"Doesn't surprise me. It was probably Mother's." I could hear my voice crack in its emotion. But, I wouldn't break here.

"Draco," he forced, his voice growing softer. "I know that you hadn't the greatest family background either. But, I'd like you to trust me when I say that I know how you feel. You can come to me if you need to. I know a thing or two about that kind of pain, and it's nearly impossible to deal with alone." His features grew as gentle as his words and it took whatever I had to not sob out the trapped hopeless feelings that I'd been harboring for a lifetime. "You can trust me, Draco."

I closed my eyes and breathed in shallow breaths.

Finally, I understood the fluttering in my stomach.

I was falling in like with Harry James Potter.


	10. Chapter Nine: Until You Ask

_Chapter Nine: Until You Ask_

It would still be a few days before I could leave the infirmary. True to his honest Gryffindor tendencies, Harry hardly left for the length of an hour at a time. I honestly began to believe that he had no needs whatsoever and that he was some inhuman oddity. Sure, a wizard could technically be considered such in theory, but Harry was pushing his limits. He looked like a disaster from his lack of sleep and nutrition, and well, lack of everything.

He never ran out of things to say, which served one side of me extremely well. But, the rational side wanted him to bugger off before I had enough sense to hex myself into oblivion for allowing the irrational side to feel at all. Harry shouldn't be hurt in that process. It wasn't his fault that I… had stronger feelings for him.

How utterly wonderful.

To escape into my own mind, I tried pretending to sleep. That rarely helped. Harry would still be there, humming to himself or toying with the sheets. He was always occupied in his own thoughts, and I needed to bite the inside of my cheek at times to keep myself from laughing at his boyish antics. I also had to resist slapping myself from finding those same qualities so endearing.

That was easy enough to keep in check though, as the she-weasel continued to drop in, allowing me to reconfigure the direction of my anger. The audacity of that nasally twit! Feeding Harry all of the rubbish in the world to simply see him in the days, not months, _days_ that he spent with me.

"Harry," she cooed late into my last night in the hospital wing. It couldn't have been earlier than two AM. "Harry, you're tired. Malfoy will be fine here. Why don't you get some sleep? If it makes it any easier, I'll stay down here with him."

_Over my dead arse you will, witch!_

"That's okay Gin," he yawned. "I'm fine. It's the last night before they move Draco back. If you'd like, you can grab some new bandages for his arm. I want to change them while he sleeps. I think he's uncomfortable with his mark."

He was far too perceptive.

I heard her light footsteps travel away and back. The bits of cloth were tossed onto me like an old rag doll and I stiffened, hoping no one noticed my consciousness.

"Ginny, be reasonable. He hasn't done anything to you, he's out cold."

_Ha, my hero._

"I don't see why you're so accepting of him, Harry. You know what he is, what he's done. God, Harry, you're about to dress the mark of the people trying to kill you!"

"And as I recall, I'm still very much alive and there have been more than enough opportunities for Draco to-."

"There you are again!" she screeched, "Draco? Since when was he Draco, Harry? How can you just let everything he's done disappear into thin air? He's not a good person. He never has been and he never will be. He can't change Harry. I know you want to believe that everyone can be good, but they can't. Some people weren't born right."

Harry sighed and collected the bandages.

"Would you mind leaving for a while, Gin?" he asked politely. I could tell the gesture was forced. "There are more important things that I need to worry about than your feelings towards the boy that's risking his life just like any of us."

"But, I-."

"Please Ginny, just leave."

Her footsteps were heavier as she left and I felt my arm lift slightly as a hand slid into my own to keep it elevated. The knowledge of whose hand this was made my skin tickle and palm sweat.

"Ginny doesn't really believe that," he said, still believing my sleep. "She's just frustrated. We all are. I just wish she could put it behind her long enough to see the larger picture."

His touch was so light, so gentle against my nearly healed mark. If it were another universe, I'd think this most intimate of gestures. But, seeing how we live in the real world, I could only wait for my heart to cease its excessive beating.

"It's strange. She thinks this mark makes you separate from us. It's what brought you here. I mean- you wouldn't have come to me if you hadn't received it. You'd be so far from this war, from everything." He paused, collecting a heavy breath. "That'd be nice, to go away for a while. To get away from all of this. I think, if I survive this thing, that's what I'll do. I'll just leave, take some time for myself."

"Where would you want to go?" I asked, astonishing Harry enough to jump back into his chair. I chuckled quietly, still taking note that he hadn't relinquished my arm.

He smiled and continued to rewrap. "I think I'd like Italy. Or France."

"Do you speak either language?"

He shook his head. "No, but there's the fun. It'll be perfect. I won't understand them. They won't know me. It'll be a whole different world. No magic, nothing. I wouldn't have to be Harry Potter anymore."

"Who would you want to be?"

He shrugged. "Anyone else would be a start. I've never really thought about the name. It isn't what your name is after all; it's what you do with it."

"So, why can't you stay Harry?"

He smiled, a half grin, sad and knowing. "Harry Potter won't survive this war, Draco. Whether my body lives or not, I won't be able to go back to that name. It's too much to live up to."

"I think I know what you mean, and a new identity sounds ideal."

He finished the dressings and released my injury.

"So, how much of that last conversation did you hear?" he finally asked, crossing his arms and relaxing back into his seat.

"Just the whole thing. It really isn't a secret that the apple of your eye hates me, Harry. Really, I've lived with it for just about each second of knowing them. I'm not the least bit put off by her." That wasn't entirely true. I was put off by the closeness between her and Harry.

"I'm sorry still. Even if they weren't my words." He paused. "Is it hurting at all?"

"Not really. Just a dull ache. But, it's always been like that. Since I got it I mean. Comes and goes." That was true for the most part. I've gotten used to ignoring it at its worst.

"It really seems to bother you at night. You're usually turning half the time with it," he rambled.

"Recently?"

"No, for a few weeks now. I just hadn't found a right time to tell you. You know, you shouldn't mask it. I'll help you if I can. You just need to tell me."

When he was this concerned, when he was just so disgustingly Harry, he couldn't help me. I wouldn't want him to.

"I'm fine. It's the least of my worries, trust me."

"What are you worried about?"

I snickered humorlessly. "My sanity, I think."

"I think we're all worried about that," Harry said. There wasn't a way he could misread my sarcasm. But, he let the subject die. "It's easier, you know, to let someone else in. Lessen the load."

"Yeah," I agreed, gulping to relieve the dry throat I'd developed. "I'll let you know if it gets to be too much."

His face brightened enough to notice. "Good then!"

"You're easily excited Potter. Might want to keep that in check." Or stop smiling all together. It tends to brighten your eyes.

Bullocks, I sounded like a she-weasel.

"Wouldn't hurt you to be happy every now and again."

"Wouldn't hurt you to keep some of that bottled. People tend to reject the unfamiliar happiness."

"People have rejected me for longer than this war's been alive," he reminded solemnly.

"Sorry, Harry," I immediately reprimanded myself inwardly. "I forget that you didn't have it so great, what with your mother's family and all. Terrible people."

"I've never told you about the Dursley's. Have I?" he wondered suddenly. My heart stopped beating at its frantic pace in half a second's time. Now that would have been marvelous, however, it stopped all together. "You must have picked it up in that book you're always reading."

That little Slytherin! He knew all this time… But why then-

"Has it been a good read? I've always found it a bit dull. But, that could be because I've lived it. So, it's kind of like reading a book you've already read. You already know the ending."

His smirk was far too impressive and I didn't dare show fear of his knowledge. I'm still a Malfoy. I haven't had the luxury of disposing of that name yet. I needed to live up to that pride.

So, chin high, eye contact never wavering, I waited for him to continue.

"Why haven't I confronted you?" he shrugged. "No need. My life's always been an open book. And unlike a lot of the others here, I want you to trust me. So, if knowing me makes that simpler for you, then it's yours. Keep it. I didn't like where it was going anyway."

"You don't mind that I'm keeping your life hostage?"

"Mind? I insist. Keep in mind that not everything you read is accurate. It's entirely biased and you'll probably be offended on more than one occasion."

"I doubt there's much you could do to offend me, Harry," I said, realizing the sadness too late in my words. What kind of Slytherin can't bottle his own feelings?

"I'm not sure I understand what you're prattling on about."

I shook my head and waved my hand as if to dismiss the issue like bad air. "It isn't important."

"I'm sure it's important, Draco. But, if you're sure you're not ready to talk, keep it to yourself. I wouldn't want you uncomfortable." He smiled and my stomach leapt forward, trying failingly to get as close to Harry as possible. Luckily, for my life's sake, my body had a will.

"Come on, you've been cooped up for a while. Let's walk." He patted the mattress before standing and offering his hand to help me stand.

"I don't know how great an idea that is, Harry. I mean, shouldn't I wait until someone gives me the go?" _Or until anyone other than you asks me?_

"I'm giving you the go and that should be more than enough. Now, up!" he persisted, taking a strong hold on both of my arms and dragging me to my feet. I stumbled into him slightly, needing his assistance to stand, which I could have been embarrassed about, if I hadn't landed exactly where my body wanted to. "Come on, Draco, you're not physically impaired."

"That's what you think," I mumbled under my breath, warning my body to settle before my logic knocked it back on its arse. Logic must've been sick.

I wouldn't know though, I hadn't seen him in quite some time.

"You think you're up for walking?" he asked, his voice challenging but concerned. "I mean, we could always wait, but I think it'll be good for you to move around."

"I can handle anything you can, _Potter_," I retorted, balancing myself and taking a few slow paces in front of him. "Where are we walking?"

He smiled at my stubborn nature, or that's what I thought he was smiling about. And I failed at suppressing a grin in return because smiles are simply contagious…

That's what I failed at convincing myself of.

"The yard out back? We can make a few rounds before they find out I've abducted you."

I laughed sarcastically. "I'm sure they'd care if you disposed of the Death Eater."

"Hermione would care," he interjected.

I rolled my eyes. "She hardly counts. She's about as ridiculously noble as you are."

"You think I'm noble?"

"Are you surprised?" I asked, baffled again by his unawares.

He shrugged, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Compliments sound different from you. Especially when there isn't mockery behind them."

My heart stilled yet again. Perhaps I was the Boy Who Lived after all. Malfoys weren't supposed to compliment Potters. He would figure it out. He would ruin everything by understanding me.

"Just can't seem to settle. Your choice, Potter. You can feel odd at my seemingly stunning disposition, or we can go back to insults. I've been practicing a few I wouldn't mind trying if you're up to the latter of the two." I could feel my chest begin to expand again. At least I was breathing.

"I'll stick with the new you. He seems to keep me occupied."

We walked until we'd reached the outside. It was cooler than I assumed it would be and I crossed my arms to reserve my own body heat.

"What did you mean?" I asked suddenly, disrupting the silence. "How do I keep you occupied?"

Harry folded his arms and released a sigh. It was heavier than I'd like to have heard.

"You keep me guessing. I was fairly certain that I had had you all figured out, and here you are, showing up at my door, helping the Light. Two occurrences that if asked a year ago, I would never have seen coming." He ruffled his left hand through the hairs on the back of his head. "It's nice to not always have a handle on things. I don't have to worry about figuring you out. And believe me, not having to think about something is a wonderful feeling."

"Oh," I said feebly. Damn hope, it was starting to turn my brain to mush. To think that I thought myself worthy of being thought of in anyway other than a bit above your average disappointment. Shameful indeed.

"Something wrong?" he asked as we made a stop at the entrance back to the building.

I shook my head, trying to smile with at least an inch of sincerity. "No, I'm fine. I think I'm just tired from walking."

Following Harry back to our room, I noticed his contemplative silence. He hadn't believed my efforts. But, he was respecting my boundaries.

"I guess we'll call it a night?" he asked, nodding towards some unknown point in the room.

"Harry, how are things with Ginny?" I asked bluntly, immediately regretting the decision to insert myself into his personal endeavors.

His eyebrow rose curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I was just assuming that it would be hard to maintain a strong relationship through all of this." I tried to sound as matter-of-factly as I could without the desperation.

"A relationship? We're friends, Malfoy." He laughed then, as if my assumption was ludicrous. "Don't worry, you aren't the first to think something more. To be honest, she's my best mate's little sister. Almost making her my own sister. I feel guilty sometimes about feeling that way."

"Why?" I breathed, more in relief than anything else.

"I'm not as ignorant as you perceive me to be. I know how much she's infatuated." He must have seen my stunned reaction. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of him seeing his impact on another person. "No, I don't say that with any amount of arrogance. I'd rather she felt nothing for me. It would make things much simpler."

"I didn't think you were ignorant," I mumbled. "I just-."

"It's strange." He interrupted. Something told me that he hadn't conversed about this often. "Sometimes I think Ron is in her favor too. He wants us to be together. I think Hermione may want the same thing. But, she'd see me with anyone that made me happy." He smiled slightly at the end of his idea. Hermione was quite a friend to have. Genuine and all that nonsense.

"So, you don't want to be with Ginny. At all."

His smile turned to a confused grin and his eyes narrowed. "No, I don't want to be with her." His statement was plain, long and drawn out. I suppose he assumed if he spoke slower, it would be easier to grasp.

My own lips betrayed me as they began to turn upwards.

"Surprised?" Harry asked, eyebrow still cocked.

"In more ways then you could imagine," I confessed honestly.

Well, him not finding the Weaselette to be his soul mate was enough of a surprise in itself. But, what churned within me was the greatest surprise of all. I still haven't deciphered the exact feeling, but I can imagine that it may have been happiness, or maybe a cross between relief and bliss. Why I felt those emotions made as little sense as humanly possible.

From the obvious, I was- am- a boy. To call upon other issues, we're from completely different spectrums and could be considered other species. This could pose a problem. A friendship of his seems nearly impossible. He couldn't want _me_ of all people.

Hope is a terrible kind of optimist.

"I guess it's strange. She's so, how can I put this? She's too much like me in a sense. It would be like trying to be with myself. And believe me; I'm growing tired of Harry Potter." His laugh was hollow, tired. "I understand her too well. I know that sounds odd, to lose interest because of knowing someone too well. But, Ginny is more like a fan rather than a girlfriend. Sometimes I think she only swoons because of my name. Maybe it would be different if I thought she was genuine."

"That isn't so hard to believe. I mean, you're Harry Potter." I attempted to make jazz hands to truly decorate his ever popular name. "It wouldn't be one of your escapades if it weren't a challenge. Not hard to have a fan fall in love with you. You want to work for something real."

Another bit of confusion broke his composure. "That's about exactly right."

"I'm incredibly perceptive." And remarkably stupid.

He rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom. I took that time to change and collapse onto my bed. Within a few moments, Harry was back and in his own bed. He wandlessly turned the lights off and I rolled to face him.

A quiet moment passed before he spoke. "So, what about you?"

"Hm?" I asked poetically.

"Any girls that are catching your eye? I noticed your sudden friendship with Hermione. She's crazy for Ron. As a friend, I'll tell you to stop trying."

"No, Harry, I'm not in any way interested in Granger. I'm not interested in any girl for that matter." I did my best not to emphasize the word _girl_.

Harry grunted a reply. "Really? I thought the Slytherin Prince would have at least a line of girls ready to spring."

"I could say the same for you," I challenged.

"People tend to avoid those of us who are constantly followed by a murderer."

"Sounds lonely."

"It can be," he reflected. "But, I have more than I can ask for. I have people that care about me, people who'll stick beside me no matter what the cost."

Again, silence encompassed the room. When I heard deeper breaths in the bed next to mine, I cleared my throat and broke the silence created by Harry's unconsciousness.

"I'll stick by you Harry," I whispered, the words penetrating.

"I know," he grumbled back, rolling onto his side and away from me.


	11. Chapter Ten: Time, Truth, and Hearts

_Chapter Ten: Time, Truth, and Hearts_

Needless to say that paranoia soon overcame me as I tried pathetically to fall into some state of unconsciousness. Something told me that I should most likely keep my thoughts in my head where they belong.

To pass the time, I found Harry's journal and settled outside on the balcony- tiptoeing through the oversized window as to not wake the boy wonder.

Aside from the obvious, Harry was strangely normal within the confines of the text. He had problems, sure. They were asking far too much of him, yes. But, he was afraid, like any inexperienced boy. He didn't- couldn't- know the world yet. And here it was, forcing itself onto him while all he had wanted was normalcy.

It wasn't fair!

Why couldn't Harry have a life that suited him?

He was far too friendly to be confined to this building and the few people inside. He was too knowledgeable to have to focus only on the task at hand. Harry was much too young to have to carry the world and himself alone. He was too innocent to have to live and breathe amongst such filth. And he was beautiful. He shouldn't have to settle for the ugliness that his life has dealt him.

But, that's Harry. Always settling, always allowing someone else to decide what was best for everyone, which ended up being best for him. He was responsible for everyone, after all.

Utter bullocks if you ask me.

I closed the book and rubbed the exhaustion from my eyes. Reading in the absence of light was probably a terrible idea for my eyes, but what was done, was done.

The sky was so clear that evening. It was hard to imagine that there were such things as war and evil when such brilliant things existed. The stars formed their own stories, their own histories. They'd been around for longer than we've existed and they will be there long after we're gone. They've seen more than we'll ever know and understand the secrets of the universe.

It was a sight like that that made me believe when I was a child. It made me believe in something more, something bigger than what was so black and white in my own world. It may be entirely plebian of me to think, but I did study alternate universes for a brief time. I still question whether or not they exist. But, somewhere, according to my research, I exist in the exact same moment. There isn't war there though. I'm there for other reasons. In another universe, everything is exactly as it should be, and I can imagine that I am loving every moment of it.

"Can't sleep either?" a voice croaked behind me, causing me to jump suddenly from my seat. Harry laughed hoarsely and sat in the empty chair. "Sorry if I scared you."

"Just startled is all," I replied lamely. My voice hadn't come back from its initial fright. "Bad dreams?"

Harry nodded and settled farther into his seat. "Can't seem to shake them."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Would you care to listen?" he asked, scratching the back of his head and staring at the sky as I was. "It won't be particularly pleasing to you."

"I'm sure I can handle it," I promised. "More than likely, I've heard and seen worse." Trying to grin with that bit of honest and sarcastic humor caused Harry to huff what I thought to be a failed attempt at laughing.

"You were falling, and I couldn't catch you. I could only watch. I can't really say where we were. Things were so dark and you were cold, freezing actually." He breathed, regaining himself. "Sometimes, I can see things," he confessed, pinching the bridge of his nose after removing his glasses. "In my dreams I mean. Sometimes they're real; sometimes they're the future or the past. Sometimes, they're happening right now. But, I never know for sure. So, it's like almost knowing something before it happens and not being able to warn anyone because you don't want a fuss over something that won't happen. People have enough to worry about as it is."

"I'm not so afraid of dying, Harry."

"You aren't?" he asked, bewilderment changing the tone of his voice.

"Should I be? I hear it's much better than this. I mean, how can one really know? But, I assume that whatever we're running from now is much worse than what we've always been trying to hide from." I wasn't sure if I actually feared death or not, but I knew there had to be something better than what was reality. It didn't make sense for things to be so terrible. Goodness had to exist somewhere, or else, how would they be able to write about it in storybooks?

"I'm not so afraid of it either." He paused, "But, I guess it's different when you're expecting it."

I laughed, a quiet, almost pathetic whisper of a laugh. "You aren't going to die, Harry."

"You can't know that."

"Yes I do," I said, finally looking at him straight in the eye. A sleep-deprived version of me could handle his clouded gaze. "You can't die. You're far too stubborn to let yourself lose. You're too guilt-stricken to die knowing that things will be worse off without you even if you're too modest to say it out loud. We need you and you won't just leave us here."

He shook his head, and for the first time, he looked away first. "You're wrong."

"Look at me." It wasn't an aggressive command, but it was enough to regain control. "A Malfoy is _never_ wrong."

"Never?" he murmured. I let the silence collect around us.

"Well, maybe we're wrong about a few things," I admitted. "Maybe _I_ was wrong about a few things…" I sighed heavily, "Or a few people."

"A few people?"

"Well, don't quote me, or I'll kill you before Volde- well, you know, gets to you." He chuckled, gesturing for me to continue. "But, Molly isn't _that_ wretched. Her cooking is wonderful and she's actually hilarious. Stop laughing!" I couldn't control a snicker either. "And well, Granger is actually very kind and probably as noble a girl as I have ever met. It's a pity that she's in love with that red-headed oaf. What?" I asked after noting his dirty look, "I haven't changed my perspective that much."

"Think you'd be a better match for Hermione?"

Not for Hermione.

"No, I can't say that I fancy her in any way other than the fact that she'd the second best friend that I have. Probably have ever had."

"Well, who was the first?"

"Hm?" I articulated.

"Who was your first best friend?"

"You'll laugh if I tell you. I don't think you'll be interested in knowing."

"Try me."

I inhaled deeply and let my head fall to my palms to disrupt my view of the boy beside me. "You're my best friend, Harry," I mumbled.

I expected laughter. I expected pity and sound ridicule. I never seem to be right anymore. This wasn't the quiet I was used to. This was far too tense for my liking. I needed to get out, somehow. But, I couldn't make a scene. What was said wasn't nearly as monumental as what I wanted to say, what had been torturing me since the realization finally hit.

"Sorry, that's not right is it? But, I don't know. We get along pretty well and you respect me. You don't look at me like I'm a guest; you treat me as if I'm just as important as you are. You don't stick up for your friends when they try to convince you that I'm up to something. And I know that must be hard for you because they mean so much more to you than I ever could. Especially when you have to disagree with Ginerva. I believe you when you say that she isn't for you. I do. But, she will be. I know it; I can see it. When this is over, you'll have them and you'll realize that they're all you need. I really won't matter anymore. I don't really matter now." One breath was far too little for all of that information.

"How can you say that? You don't matter? You don't know me, Draco, if you think that that's how I feel."

I wanted to start, but he continued. "Sure, I've been on better terms with them than I have been with you. But, you're just as much a part of me as they are. You've never just given me a break. You constantly challenge me, and I need it. You don't see my name and think of ways that I can help you. You treat me differently than they do. You know what it's like to genuinely dislike me, something they would never let themselves do. You know two sides of me. So, in that sense, you know me better than anyone."

"Well, maybe, but-."

"No, I'm right this time," he decided. "Now look at me."

I looked up to find him just a mere inch or two from my face. He was too close; it was starting to do funny things to my stomach. My palms began to sweat.

"You are one of the most important pieces of my life. Don't ever sell yourself short. I admire you more and more every day and you should recognize how remarkable you are."

"You're one to talk of modesty, Potter," I laughed, a small attempt to cover my nervousness.

"I'm serious, Draco. You're just as important to me as I am to you, if not more."

"I doubt that," I said flatly.

"Why?"

"Because I like you!" I shouted, pushing my own seat out from under me to stand. Harry found the door before I could and blocked my exit. "Just, let me sleep, my head isn't working right."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Forget it, Potter. It's nothing. I don't know what I'm saying right now. I'm not in the right state."

"No," he nearly growled. "Tell. Me. What. You. Said. Now."

I shivered at his near furious state. "I said," clearing my throat, "I like you, Harry."

He then took a calculated step towards me and stopped, studying my face. I did my best not to flinch under his penetrating stare. It wasn't until I felt a pressure in my hand that I looked away and down to see that he had taken hold of it and inched even closer.

And, without so much as a thought, his free hand cupped my cheek and pulled my face forward so that his lips could press the smallest kiss to my forehead. The gesture was almost too intimate for me and my knees began to shake.

My eyes fluttered and his arms snaked around my waist to begin that whole hugging business again.

I didn't mind it so much this time.

"That's what I thought you said."


	12. Chapter Eleven: It's Enough

_Chapter Eleven: It's Enough_

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I slept rather soundly that evening. I didn't feel nearly as lost as I had been. The weight was reduced a bit from my chest and to be honest, I was convinced that I'd dreamed the previous evening.

And the lack of another human existence in the room supported that notion entirely.

I wasn't sure where Harry had escaped to, but that didn't frighten me so much. Had it been months ago, I would have bet my name that Harry would have scampered off to his friends and they would have all taken turns laughing behind my back at my sudden declaration.

I didn't know Harry then.

Not to say that I was much of an expert now on the boy, but I knew a significant amount more that I had before I came here for help.

In truth, he wasn't saying a word to them about last night. He wouldn't put me in danger by telling Weasley. Ronald or Ginevra for that matter.

But, how did he feel? About my feelings? About me in general?

He wasn't disgusted, that much was rather obvious. He didn't run away; he embraced me without prompting of any kind. He kissed me; granted it was parental and incredibly platonic, but it was affection none-the-less.

I liked that. Harry was strong- both body and mind. I guess I can say that I felt protected. It was in that moment that an epiphany struck.

I realized that Harry was not the boy people labeled him as. He was the Man-Who-Lived. He'd experienced more than any man I'd ever known and he holds more responsibility as well. Harry has earned the title of 'man.'

Rolling over towards the window allowed me to take in just how much the sun had moved in the sky. Judging by its placement, it was already afternoon and judging by the pain in my stomach, I'd missed both lunch and breakfast. With this continuous habit, I was going to wither away to nothing in no time.

So, in a not so careful manner, I scurried out of my bed and exited the room, still clad in my pajama bottoms and sleep wrinkled t-shirt. I was nearly down the second flight of stairs before I'd realized I had left without shoes as well.

It also hadn't occurred to me that others still lived in this house and I ended up nearly tackling a rather surprised Hermione right into the ground.

"Oh, my apologies, Granger," I said quickly, helping to steady her. "What?" I wondered aloud, watching her scrutinize my every detail.

"Did you apologize to me?" I nodded, finally realizing my mistake. "And you're hardly dressed at all. Are you alright, Draco?"

I smirked casually and shrugged my shoulders, shoving my hands into the pockets of the flannel sleeping pants.

"You told Harry, didn't you?" she beamed.

"Told Harry what?" I asked, my voice straining slightly.

"That you love him! You told him, haven't you? Oh, it's all over your face, Draco. I swear, you boys can be so naïve. I think I've known since the day we dueled. Even if you hadn't of course."

Her rambling was beginning to embarrass me. "I didn't tell him that I loved him, Granger! For Merlin's sake keep quiet or I'll hex you. I'm not exactly too thrilled that you knew before I did. And just for your information, he doesn't know either. So, let's keep it that way. I could finally admit to liking him. Let him get over that travesty first."

"Travesty? Draco, it's beautiful!" Who knew Hermione was such a hopeless romantic? "Why would you think it's a travesty?"

"Obviously the feeling can't be mutual. I'm just surprised he let me live 'til morning. Convinced it was a nightmare probably."

"Highly unlikely. He was in absurdly high spirits this morning. He'd even taken to training early, something he hardly ever does anymore. He usually doesn't have the energy, but he's full of it today. Something positive is coming, I can feel it."

I wasn't sure what to make of such a statement. My pride had collapsed while living here and I couldn't bring myself to think that Harry was happy because of me or anything that I may have done. "So, where is he now then? He wasn't celebrating the beautiful occasion when I'd woken up."

Hermione smiled and glanced at her shoes to hide her amusement. "Well, considering it's nearly two in the afternoon, I should say not. He's probably trying to study with Ronald in the library. They both need to read up on quite a bit while they still can." She began to walk away before turning back. "Don't be so sure about the reciprocation, Draco. I tend to see a bit more than you do," the witch said, winked, and continued on her way.

I must've changed. There isn't a chance in all of Hogwarts that I would have denied her words. She was complimenting me and telling me that I was right. The old Malfoy would have relished the moment and possibly turned around and provided some sort of witty and unnecessary retort.

I guess he doesn't exist anymore. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had the nerves I had while I found my legs carrying me at an abnormal pace towards the library. And I most definitely wouldn't have ignored the obvious pleading my stomach was doing.

"Need something, Malfoy?" Weasley asked. I must have been much closer and less attentive than usual. "You look like hell."

"Lovely seeing you as well, Weasley," I replied, thinking better of my usual comment. Ronald mumbled something under his breath and continued his reading attempts.

"Afternoon, Draco. I trust you slept well?" Harry finally added, sporting his genuine trademark grin. "You don't look like hell by the way. Comfortable actually."

"I suppose there's something to these muggle pajamas. I hadn't given them a fair chance."

Ronald's head snapped at that point, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. "I think he's ill and I don't need that right now." He closed his book and pushed his chair away from the table in front of him. "I'm going to chug some orange juice before the germs infest. See you, Harry." I think he may have murmured my surname before exiting the room, leaving Harry and I alone.

This stomach fluttering was becoming a problem.

I sat across from Harry until the silence became uncomfortable. "What're you reading?"

What an icebreaker.

"Nothing too important. Just some history of Dark Arts. It's a review to be honest. Hermione's been drilling me for about two years now. I think she's psychic sometimes, I really do." Wow, same here.

"Do you need any help?"

"I could use a break if you'd like to join me."

I nodded for him to lead the way. Of course he'd wanted to eat as well. Before all of this became entirely too heavy, Harry could take Ronald in eating. It was almost disturbing to watch. But, I suppose I still watched. I was always watching the boy…

"Hungry?" he asked, shuffling through the freezer and pulling out a carton of what looked to be chocolate fudge ice cream. "I know it's not real food. I can make you something if you're not up for the sugar yet."

An idea sprung on me at that moment. "Put the carton away, I'll make us something."

He laughed lightly. "I think I'll take living over real food. Thanks though."

"Seriously!" I almost shouted. "Put it away and wait out there," I demanded, pointing outside in the cafeteria.

Reluctantly, he followed suit. "If you're not finished within the half hour, I'm coming in and extinguishing everything you've set on fire."

I rolled my eyes and threw on the ridiculous apron that Molly suggested I wear while cooking. It did save a lot of clothing recently.

The question was, what to make? And well, I wanted breakfast. So, pancakes sounded almost too delightful.

I set the supplies on the counter and began measuring while the frying pan heated over the stove. Within fifteen minutes, I had too many misshapen chocolate chip pancakes to count. Most were half burnt. A lot of them were sticky from batter that didn't dry from the pancake before it. A few were decent enough to eat though, and with enough whipped cream, anything is edible.

So, without a great amount of hesitation or disappointment, I exited the kitchen with an oversized plate covered in a random assortment of pancakes and whipped cream. In my other hand, I held most likely bitter homemade hot chocolate.

I was still a student after all.

"Can I open my eyes?" Harry teased. He must've closed them when he heard the door to the kitchen opening.

"Before you do so, it's important that you don't judge my skill based on appearance."

"Promise," he said before opening his eyes. He examined my work and never abandoned that half smile of his. After a minute of searching, he must've found what he was looking for because he looked up and rewarded me with a strange smile. "They're perfect."

He then proceeded to eat the food with his hands as I had forgotten the silverware. I joined soon after and spent my "breakfast" studying Harry. Something definitely was strange about him today. He was jovial? I'm not sure if that was the correct wording, but he was happy.

We finished in silence and Harry even bit back his laughter at the not perfectly pleasant taste of the hot chocolate.

"So, Harry," I began, deciding it was best to have this conversation while in a pleasant mood. "About last evening. I don't want things to be uncomfortable between us. Believe me, I understand that things are rather one sided. I know that you care for me, but in a different way. I just don't want things to be odd. Judging by this morning though, we seem to still be able to stand each other."

"Well, that's a lot to process." He folded his hands on the table and stared at his intertwined fingers. "Let me think for a moment."

What was there to think about?

"Draco, I think you misunderstand me. You assume this one-sidedness, but have you ever asked me? I've thought over a lot of things this morning and if you'd been reading carefully in my journal, you may have figured this out as well." He breathed in slowly and continued not to make eye contact. "You've been some kind of constant in my life as a wizard since the very beginning. You were my first conscious enemy, the first person that I have ever truly considered hating, the first person to challenge me, and the first person that I seem to think of lately. And for some reason, the last person as well. I keep coming back to you and that's all seemed normal for a while since you were the odd man here. But, I noticed even more attention as you became more comfortable. You weren't you anymore, the negative parts anyway. Still determined, still arrogant, still witty, and still a hot head. But, you used it for a good cause. And when you killed your aunt, you became selfless. Putting us before your family when I know that family and name is your rock was incredible. I haven't seen something so absolutely sacrificing in a long time." He seemed to drift then, probably to memories I couldn't compete with. "You're not this person in need of repenting. You're learning and that's the greatest way to repent. You're changing, not because you have to, but because you know it's right. That's admirable.

"That's why you may want to consider rethinking your ideas about how I feel. You don't know me as well as you think."

I wasn't certain on how to respond. "Are you sure?" That was the only thing to come to mind.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm Harry Potter. I don't know how to not do the right thing."

I looked up to see a gentle smile and couldn't help but smile sheepishly in return.

He opened his hands and left one, palm up, near my side of the table. He was allowing me to make the choice.

Of course I laid my hand in his. It fit well there. His hand was strong, callused from years of fending for himself and years of taking care of others. Again, I felt that odd sense of safety. Harry would take care of me; his care didn't come with a catch.

His thumb brushed over the back of my hand and I felt incredible. Even the butterflies were behaving.

"I seem to have taken a liking to you, Mister Malfoy," he teased. "I hope this doesn't make things uncomfortable."

I kicked his leg under the table at that. There wasn't half as much malice as usual.

He may not have been in love, but this was more than enough for now.


	13. Chapter Twelve: To Snitch a Confession

_Chapter 12: To Snitch a Confession_

"_Harry James Potter_!" a shrill voice cried from the entrance behind Harry. You can guess as to whom the voice belonged. "Either I've gone completely insane within these walls or _you_ have."

And for the second time in my life, another Weasel pointed her wand at my throat without just cause.

"What have you done to him you vicious slime? Cursed him, have you? Impaired his judgment? Clouded his mind? Malfoy, I don't know what you want here, but you don't play with the heart in times like these. Do you even have a conscience? What makes you think that for a moment you could fool any of us?" The girl was actually hissing at me, pressing her wand so far into my neck that I needed to force air into my body before passing out. I was beginning to grow faint before Harry decided to step in.

"Are you quite finished, Ginny?" he asked quietly. "I'll have you know that my mind is in impeccable shape and Draco here has done nothing to alter anything to an unnatural state."

Never retracting her force, the glare in her eyes softened as they retreated to our love interest. "Harry, you don't mean any of this. He's tricked you. I'll- I'll find Hermione. She'll fix you, I promise." Ginny smiled sweetly at the man she was infatuated with. It was a terrifyingly insane grin and I almost entertained the idea of her insanity, but I couldn't quite get any oxygen back into my brain.

"Fix me? Are you implying that there's something wrong with who I am?"

"No," she immediately corrected. Oh, I so wish that I could have reacted. My smirk tried so hard to come about. "No! I simply mean that he's obviously done something to harm your thought process and you aren't in the right state right now."

"Ginny, if you ask Hermione if there's something wrong with me, she'll laugh at you. I've already spoken to her about all of this-."

"You've already spoken to her about _what_ exactly?" Ginny interrupted, her voice becoming shriller if possible.

"About Draco and how I should handle my new found feelings about what you would call 'impaired judgment,'" he stated coolly. I could feel the press of the wand retreat slightly. "Ginny, I apologize if this offends you, but I didn't ask for this and neither did Draco. I love you, like I love Ron or Hermione. You're family to me, and hopefully this doesn't change that."

"You're telling me that all this time- you-you've been a pounce? That's what's been going on this whole time? And for this rubbish no less?" Ginevra bellowed, the wand sinking again.

"If I'm not mistaken, there isn't a wand at _your_throat, Ginny." She receded then, placing her wand back into the cuff of her sleeve. "And I'm certainly not a pounce. I've never even considered another man before now. Just because you're attracted to a member of the same sex doesn't mean you're attracted to the lot of them. Same goes for you. I doubt you come on to every bloke you see."

Harry was too rational.

"That's entirely different! He isn't like us, Harry."

"How would you know?"

She growled and turned on her heel, muttering something about 'telling Ron.' A few strangled moments of silence spread between Harry and I.

"She's right you know, I'm not like you," I nearly whispered. "I don't feel like getting you into trouble with your friends. It isn't fair, and these are hard times. You probably aren't thinking too clearly. You need them."

"And you're insinuating that I don't need you as well? Why can't I have both? I'm Harry Potter. I'm supposed to get whatever I want, right?"

"This isn't funny, Harry," despite my small laugh. "I'm trying to be serious."

"So am I," he said in a tone that I don't think I would have challenged even on my cockiest days. "Don't worry about her, and don't worry about anyone else in here. Even Molly likes you, granted, she's probably the sweetest woman I've ever met, but that's a step, Draco. Now, come on. I wanted to do something while the weather still permitted."

My eyebrow rose and I didn't have time for guessing as I was pulled through a now crowded cafeteria and hallway towards a back door that led to the yard where Harry had hugged me for the first time…

For all that is holy, I was an utter pansy.

"If the weather permits? Harry- it's pouring." I believe the muggle expression is 'raining cats and dogs.' "What on Earth could you want to do in this?"

Harry left me at the door and ventured to the other side of the yard, collecting two objects that I couldn't make out in the torrential downpour.

When he had returned, hair plastered to his face from rain and breathing heavily, he revealed two brooms. Then, mumbling something incoherent, the rain stopped. Well, I shouldn't say that it stopped, but the entire plot of land was untouched by the rain, as if an umbrella covered its entirety. It was such a strange sight.

"How did you do that? And why did you wait until after you got the brooms to stop the rain?" I asked.

"It's a charm, but it won't last all day. Maybe a couple of hours or so. But, I like the rain. I figured you wouldn't want to get all muddy and damp and whatnot."

"You assumed right. I'm not a barbarian. Or one of those mud people." I shivered at the thought of having that imbedded into my skin.

Harry handed me one of the brooms, shaking his head all the while and sporting that token grin on his face. "Up for a little Seeker's challenge?" He asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"Of course." I ripped the broom from his hand as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden ball that I had known to be a snitch. "You kept one?"

"Dumbledore gave it to me. It was the first I'd ever caught." Harry left then, in a memory I assumed, a good one judging by his silly grin. "I'd almost swallowed it," he snickered.

"Yeah, I remember. You beat Slytherin that day."

"I'm about to beat Slytherin again," he challenged, allowing the snitch to take flight. "Good luck!" he boasted before climbing onto his broom and taking off.

"Cheating, Potter! You're an absolute disgrace!"

I could still hear the sound of his laughter as I shot into the sky as well.

Truth be told, I hadn't felt so free in quite a long time. The snitch was the last thing in my mind as the air moved through me. I loved the feeling of nothing beneath your feet. It's as if you're all that exists.

Flying had always been a hobby of mine. Now, if you ask anyone, I was only ever out to better the famous Harry Potter. I wouldn't tell you otherwise, but in truth? I flew because I felt at home in the sky. There was nothing to hold me back or down. I had total control of my direction and, in most circumstances, I had decided when and if I wanted to stop.

Naturally, I hardly ever left if I could help it.

It never mattered to me whether or not Harry won. He always would.

What mattered to me was being allowed the freedom to simply be.

Hours must have gone by as I began to feel some precipitation fall against my face and awake me back into reality.

The torrents came quickly as I landed, trying and failing to shield my hair from the rain's destruction.

"I literally caught this thing three hours ago," Harry yelled behind me above the rain. I considered that and admired my own distraction.

"You're different up there," he observed. "You smile more."

I shrugged, moving some of the drenched hair from my eyes. "I didn't really notice."

I could feel my posture slump as my euphoria came to a close. The ground was too close to reality.

In my own thoughts, I must not have noticed Harry moving closer.

"Penny for your thoughts?" My blank expression must have clued him in on my lack of understanding. "It's a muggle expression, but what are you thinking about?"

"About how out of place I feel on the ground. It's like this pit in my stomach telling me that I don't belong here. I don't feel that way in the air. I'm not myself up there. It's easier to pretend when there's nothing weighing you down." I couldn't believe how honest I was being with Harry. I could trust him, and that terrified me.

"What are you pretending to be when you're flying?"

"Anyone but me. Gods, Harry, I've made so many mistakes. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I know I shouldn't be here. I should be off hiding somewhere and doing nothing of value because that's what I'm good at. Being worthless and a disappointment. I don't deserve this. I'm no better than anyone else, so I don't deserve this second chance. I haven't earned it and I feel guilty for taking it. I feel guilty for walking into your world and stirring things up. And if I wasn't almost certain that I loved you, I would most likely hate you for rubbing your Gryffindor feelings off onto me-."

"Did you say you loved me?" he interrupted. I mentally recalled my monologue and gaped at the confession.

"Christ, I wasn't thinking. Shit. No, take it back; I was just on a rant. I didn't mean to just spit that out. I've only been here for a few months. It wouldn't make sense for me to love you. I mean, I hated you not too long ago-."

"How long?" he interrupted again, looking me square in the eye. Obviously he hadn't believed my attempts.

Again, I shrugged.

I wasn't certain of when things had changed or if they had ever really changed at all. I had begun to think that I had always felt something more for the savior and hadn't known what to call it until now.

If love meant not being able to imagine a world without another person and studying this person and waking up to that person in your thoughts and falling asleep to them and dreaming of them and wondering what they're up to and wondering if you're making as great an impact on their life as they are in yours, well…

If that's love, then, I'd been in love with Harry since before we'd met.

"I don't know if I even know what that word means," he confessed, still never looking away.

I gulped, licking my suddenly dry lips. "I think I may know what it means. And, I think I've known for a long time, I just hadn't really looked into it. That whole fine line between love and hate can be entirely confusing for a boy raised to hate you."

"I can only imagine." Harry smiled, a soft grin that made the raindrops change their paths along his face. It seemed only natural to cup his chin with my now trembling hand and press my lips ever so gently to his in an almost breath-like kiss.

Without relinquishing my hold, I let my other hand ghost over his. In his surprised state, I took what was fisted in his hand.

"Looks like I've won," I whispered against his mouth, reluctantly pulling back in order for him to see that I'd finally caught the snitch.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Scars That Heal

_Chapter Thirteen: Scars that Heal_

I wouldn't say that the next few weeks were at all pleasant while referring to the reaction of the house towards Harry's relationship with me.

Hermione was entirely supportive, when Ginevra wasn't around. She tended to keep her mouth shut while any Weasel was in company. Ronald was livid, but I had expected that. He didn't exist if I entered the room. I suppose he was doing his best not to kill me since Harry was still his best friend. I almost found that considerate.

Ginevra was completely mad with rage at the entire idea of it. She continued to harass me at any given time. Normally, I wouldn't lessen myself to her standards by responding to her antics, but there were semi-regular occasions when she would cross the line and wind up with some strange discoloration in her face until further notice.

I couldn't be to blame for that though. Absolutely not.

Both Fred and George found the idea hilarious and enjoyed having another reason to laugh at the Boy Who Lived. Molly, for some strange reason didn't oppose the idea outright. She was considerably disappointed, but she liked seeing Harry happy. And for some reason, being around me made him happy.

Not to sound smug, well, whom am I kidding? I'm smugger now than I had been since I'd come here months ago. If smugger is a word, that is exactly how I am. I had this absurd ability to make Harry forget and feel decidedly at ease. Harry had always been able to do that for me, but to reciprocate was honestly the greatest feeling I've ever had.

I should have tried this whole loving someone business years ago.

Not that I was some kind of openly considerate sap in public. That's nonsense if for a moment you thought that I turned into some kind of love-sick Hufflepuff. No, I was the perfect picture of indifference around the other members of the house. I was even teaching my pale face not to flush. Truly a learning experience.

In private though, well, I was an embarrassment.

"I missed you," I confessed one evening after Harry had returned from another raid almost unscarred.

Harry had come home later than expected, covered in all sorts of unnamed muck, his clothing torn and tattered, and his eyes as tired as I had ever seen. I'd ruined a perfectly nice shirt by hugging him into oblivion the moment I'd laid eyes on him. Obviously we were in total seclusion; otherwise, I would have nodded in his direction and went about my business.

Luckily, for my overly desensitized body, I didn't have to ignore what I'd wanted.

"I missed you too," he said quietly, carding his fingers through my hair and kissing the top of my head. I burrowed deeper into his shoulder and sighed, finally able to relax since the week ago that he'd left. Harry had always been one to put himself into danger and danger was always close behind. It wasn't at all absurd to fear for his wellbeing while he was away.

"Can't I come along next time? I don't like sitting here, fiddling with my thumbs and waiting for you. You leave Ginevra here…"

Harry chuckled then, the sound vibrating through my own chest and sending goosebumps up my arms. I really didn't care for him being away.

"Is she bullying you, Draco? Poor little Draco getting beat up by a girl," he teased. I sat up and glared at him with as much false hatred as I could muster.

"She is _not_ a girl! She's a monster when you're not around. It's a good thing you hadn't simply decided on another girl. The little thing couldn't handle this kind of Weasley."

"You're braving it out for me, though?" he asked sincerely through little snickers. "My hero," he sighed dramatically, flopping down onto the bed in a fake swoon.

"You're such a prat."

Harry placed his hands behind his head and shrugged. "And for some reason you love me for it."

I couldn't keep my blush in check then. Of course I'd confessed to loving Harry, but I hadn't spoken the words again since then. Harry didn't bring them up either.

That was fine with me. I loved Harry and he didn't have to feel as strongly back.

"Beats the hell out of me as to the reasons for that, Potter," I retaliated, leaning overtop of him and wiping a few strands of dark hair from his eyes and past his scar. He didn't flinch as I traced the lightning shape. I placed a quick kiss over the spot before connecting with Harry's eyes. They seemed to glow with something I couldn't quite pinpoint. "What?"

Harry shook his head and the right side of his mouth lifted. "Nothing," he began. "You surprise me is all."

"How so?"

"I can't really describe it," he said, fiddling with the bottom of my button-up. "You're different. Everyday I find something else that I like about you."

"What do you like today?" I asked, trying again not to sound like some love-sick girl.

"I like that you seem fascinated with my scar. Too many people look to hide it or just look at it. You don't shy away."

"You don't scare me, Harry," I said, noticing that it almost sounded like a challenge. He laughed and it sounded too menacing for my liking.

"I don't, do I?" he asked, leaning onto his elbows to hiss something that I couldn't understand. I shivered, willing my body to behave itself.

"N-not at all." My voice would pay for its stutter later. For now, it was a bit stuck in my throat as sharp teeth nicked the lobe of my ear. I hissed as well and that seemed to push Harry further, his hands raking and scratching my back beneath my shirt.

"I beg to differ, Draco."

"Shut-up, Potter," I finally conceded, claiming his mouth rather violently and completely covering his body with my own. Harry was smiling through his victory and I bit his bottom lip to assume absolute dominance of the situation.

That was a poor move on my part.

Growling, Harry flipped our positions and pinned my hands above my head, his eyes full of a hunger that sent chills straight to my core. His tongue swept over his bitten lip and I followed the journey all the way back into his mouth before he had decided to continue his rampage, this time attacking my throat and beginning to unbutton the buttons of my shirt.

"Harry," I breathed, squirming beneath his touch and nearly crying out when his hand met uncovered skin.

I hadn't realized how incredible it would feel, his rough hands, destroyed by years of abuse. They were so strong and precise, not at all how they had seemed to me in potions or while casting spells in the past.

With my shirt now opened, Harry moved lower, tasting my collarbone and the dip in the center of my chest, pausing abruptly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing the sensitive skin that decorated my chest in scars from one of our previous encounters. "Really," kiss, "truly," kiss, "sorry."

A single tear fell off of my cheek before I had registered my silent crying. "It's okay," I croaked, my voice again betraying me. I really wouldn't even think of the scars unless someone pointed them out and that hadn't actually occurred since Madam Pomfrey watched me heal in sixth year.

"I honestly didn't know," Harry attempted to explain. " I wouldn't have cast it if I had known you could have- imagine if Snape hadn't been- you could have-."

He didn't finish; instead, he kissed me again, slower this time, gentler. Harry took his time, cradling my face in his hands while I found my way to the skin beneath his t-shirt. My cold hands caused him to jerk forward and grind slightly into my lower half. A strangled groan escaped my lips and Harry stopped just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and resume his thorough exploration of my mouth.

His skin was so hot compared to mine and flawless. The toned muscles flexed under my touch, twitching with the softest of caresses. Harry was so responsive and the more he received, the more he gave, and he already gave so much.

I was beginning to grow too attached to this. I realized then that there wasn't a way that I could manage living without having this as a constant in my life. Harry was becoming almost like air, too important to just give up on.

I wished, for the briefest of moments, that Harry needed me in the same way that I needed him.

The kissing slowed to just the soft pressing of lips and soon, we were settled into a quiet embrace.

"Harry," I mumbled.

"Hm?" he acknowledged, tracing unknown patterns on my back.

"I love you."

"I know," he sighed. "I know."

"Do you ever think that maybe you might- well, someday you could…"

"Love you too?" he finished for me. I nodded and his smile was entirely sincere and gentle. "I think I could, Draco. I really think I'll end up falling head over heels for you. I mean, you already drive me mad."

"In a good way, I hope."

"In the best of ways," Harry assured me, promising with a kiss that his words were true. After a few minutes of silence, Harry yawned and his body started to slack into total relaxation.

"Goodnight, love. Sweet dreams."

././././.

I woke up that next morning with a rather warm body wrapped around me.

It was the first time I had slept alongside Harry as opposed to on the other bed.

I had never been able to study him so closely before. But, the studying could wait. I had never been so comfortable and planned on spending the rest of the day making up for all of the sleepless nights I'd grown accustomed to.

The kind of warmth that encompassed me begged for me to simply relax and fall.

Hearing a steady heartbeat to accompany Harry's breathing was a kind of reassuring lullaby that I never received as a child.

With these thoughts in mind, I wrapped the blanket we shared tighter around us and matched Harry's breaths before falling into another deep and pleasant sleep.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: You Wish

_Chapter Fourteen: You Wish_

"Boring you with romance, Davis?" Draco questioned lightly, noticing the boy's blush at the description of his intimacy.

"No," the younger Slytherin quickly defended. "I'm just wondering when things turn for the worst is all."

Draco shook his head, smiling at Davis' concern. Preparing for the worst: a method Harry used quite often in the war. "It's not long from here, I promise. We can skip to the end though, if you'd rather miss out on the middle."

"Well," Davis considered, "what would I be missing?"

The former Death Eater shrugged, "Not too much, our first time together is sort of a milestone. But, you're not interested in that kind of story, I'm sure."

"I wouldn't say that," Davis mumbled, raking a hand through his sleep-worn hair. The pair hadn't left their rooms in days for anything other than food. Davis was entirely enthralled by Draco's tale. He almost felt himself relating and finishing the sentences on his own.

With the way Draco told it, Davis almost felt as if he were actually there.

Draco smiled at Davis then. "Like any hormonal boy, eh?" he teased.

Again, the blush began to form on the younger's cheek, a deeper red than earlier. "I don't think I'm quite like any boy," he muttered, avoiding Draco's stare. "I um," he cleared his throat before answering carefully, "I think I might like other boys too."

"Ah. Well, Davis, I'm not really into any other boy. I was only ever interested in Harry."

The younger boy's face fell slightly, or perhaps Draco imagined that.

"Oh."

"Tell me about yourself, Davis." Draco was curious. He'd spent a good amount of time telling his best kept secret to someone he hardly knew. It was only now that he realized how unfair he'd been in not allowing Davis to introduce himself into the mix. "It doesn't seem right that you know everything about me and I know close to nothing about you."

"There really isn't much to tell. And not because I don't want to," he corrected when he had noticed Draco begin to protest. "I really don't know myself. I mean, I do and I don't. I feel like I know a bit more everyday."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," he tried, scratching his head while he managed his thoughts. Harry had done a similar thing when he really had to think. "It's almost as if I really began my life after I inherited my magic before this year. My relatives didn't know a thing about magic, and they didn't care too much when they had found out. They were glad to be rid of me for a while. My parents passed when I was a baby. I don't remember them at all, so it's kind of hard to miss them. I hear they were great though. But, it really isn't all that bad. At least I have someone to look after me."

Too optimistic, Draco thought. It was unnerving.

"I'm sorry, again, about your mum and dad."

"I'm okay. Really, I actually feel like someone now. Someone's here: I just don't know who he is yet. It gets clearer though."

"Do you remember anything before Hogwarts?"

Davis shook his head. "It's strange, I remember people, but I really don't remember what I've done. It's like being a completely different person. Sometimes I'll have these little flashbacks of things and people that I don't recall knowing and I'll just assume they're memories. But, they don't stick. I don't know. I can't place them."

"Like they don't belong to you?"

"Exactly!" Davis elated- obviously excited that someone understood. "Has that ever happened to you?"

"Not as drastically as it seems to be happening with you, but I've had dreams that didn't seem like my own before."

"Oh, I suppose that's different," Davis sighed, sinking back into his pillows. "I wish I could get my thoughts together. I wish I knew exactly who I was. I did, or at least I thought I did a few months ago. But, I don't anymore."

"You're only eleven. You'll figure yourself out. Believe me, you don't need all the answers yet. No one has all of them anyway."

Davis didn't seem his age. It was funny, now that Draco actually thought about it. Sure, Davis was technically younger than he was, but he seemed to grasp a mature understanding of the world. The chip on his shoulder was rather large and Draco could respect that.

"You're right. I have time still." Davis smiled then, a naïve grin that struck a nerve within Draco. He had to smile back, though. It was a reflex.

"Right," the older Slytherin agreed. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?"

"For listening to all of this. I'm sure there are quite a few things that you would rather be doing. You have friends here. You should be seeing them and having fun. I would have attempted enjoying my first year here if I hadn't had to keep up with my academics as much."

"I like listening to you," Davis answered too quickly. "I- I mean, well, you're a good story teller. And, I don't know. I feel like I know what you're going through in a way. Not exactly, but when I say I understand, for some reason, I actually do." He tried to contain his blush. But, he hadn't had the practice that Draco had perfected.

"It's unbecoming for a Slytherin to blush," Draco warned, grinning at the boy.

"I'm actually surprised that I'm here. I figured I'd be sorted into Gryffindor with my friends. But, that old hat told me Slytherin. I didn't want to argue with it. A lot of powerful Wizards came from this house. Not the best of Wizards in character, but that doesn't mean that I have to be like them."

"Harry was almost sorted into Slytherin," Draco thought idly. "He asked the hat not to. And of course it listened to him. He's Harry Potter after all." The Slytherin rolled his eyes.

"Why didn't he want to be here?"

"Because of me," Draco declared smugly, laughing again.

"I'm glad I'm here now," Davis whispered. "I like you."

"Oh," Draco realized, "Davis, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I understand." He shrugged. "I just wanted you to know. That's all." Davis' smile was so genuine. Draco wanted to cry at how sincere this first year was. "It's just a little crush. Don't worry about it."

"Don't like me, Davis. I'm really not a good person."

"You don't seem all that bad to me. A right stubborn git, it seems. But, you have a good heart. I can tell."

_He's perceptive_, Draco thought, _sees right though people_. "Should I continue?"

Davis crossed his legs and heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose!"

"First years," Draco laughed, the sound wasn't as empty as laughs in recent past.

/./././

Harry had begun to go almost mad with finding Horcruxes. Sometimes, he'd be gone for hours, sometimes days. He never had a set schedule and that made me anxious. I'd accompanied him on a few raids, helping as much as I could. Normally, it would take an entire hour of convincing from me before he'd concede, knowing he would never win in an argument. After his few weeks of minimal sleep though, I had begun to go easy on him. He didn't need the extra baggage from me and I hadn't wanted to make this any more difficult for him.

"Please, Draco," Harry would begin, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, "not today. Just, let me do this on my own."

"Hermione and Ronald always come with you!" I accused. "It hardly seems fair. Harry, I've practiced in the Dark Arts. I have his mark for Merlin's sake! I can do this just as well as they can."

"You don't think I've considered that?" he nearly screamed. If he'd closed his hands any tighter on his hair, he would have caused early balding. "Shit, Draco! I'm not as big an imbecile as you seem to make me out to be. But, you're marked as much as I am! I call attention to myself with this scar and we can't have two routes of attention."

"I never said you were-."

"Shut up!" Harry bellowed, the lights in our rooms flickering alongside his rage. His power was growing everyday. He'd been practicing wandless magic and as impressive as that was, it was also terrifying when he couldn't control it. "Just back off for once! Quit acting like you have any idea what's best for me. No one does! Not one of you can understand what I'm going through at all."

A glass broke behind Harry onto the floor, but he didn't register that. He also didn't register his distance from me or how his physical strength seemed to change in anger as well. So, it only made sense that he didn't register the fact that pushing me away in this state would cause me physical pain. Pain that I wouldn't show him. Inwardly I winced.

"I'm leaving without you. I'll probably be back," he mumbled through clenched teeth, slamming the door behind him as he left. I rubbed the soft spot on my chest and bit back the tears that threatened to fall.

I had never been more worried for Harry. He was losing himself a little more every day and I couldn't begin to help him. He was right; I didn't know what he was going through. Not that that had ever been a problem before, but I hadn't understood how serious things had become. While I was off in a fairytale land, Harry was still here in reality, never giving himself a moment's peace.

That was the longest day that I could remember in Grimmauld Place. The room had never felt so empty. I don't think I moved an inch for hours.

"Draco?" a voice sounded from behind the door, "Can I come in?" It wasn't Harry's voice; therefore, I didn't react.

The door swung open anyway.

"Draco, I heard the yelling, and you never really left here today." Hermione was quite observant. "How are you?"

Again, I didn't respond. I kept my gaze focused solely on the spot I had found on the wall, hardly ever pausing to blink.

"Draco," she tried again. "Harry doesn't mean to be so rash. He's under a lot of stress."

"I know, Granger."

"So, it's Granger again?"

I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

I felt a dip in the bed and an arm drape itself over my shoulder. "It's okay. He'll get better. I promise."

"I'm just worried. He can't do this alone. It's too big."

"He has to. He's the only one who can."

Hermione was right. Voldemort had warned everyone of the prophecy.

"I wish I could do something. Anything." My face sank into my waiting hands and I fought away the tremors in my body as they tried to create tears.

"You're doing enough just by being here with him. Harry's torturing himself, yes, but he's coming back to you. He's much lighter after seeing you. I know; I've seen the difference. He's very tense when he has to go for days without you. The relief is incredible when we come home."

"Why aren't you out now?" I asked suddenly.

"Ronald asked me to stay back with you, actually." This struck me hard enough to whip my gaze from my lifeless hands to Hermione's face. "I figured that would peak your interest. He doesn't hate you. He's angry for his sister and bitter about the past, but he doesn't hate you. He loves Harry and wants him to be happy. He's not daft and understands that Harry needs you in a different way than the rest of us."

"Are any of you not capable of being noble?" I groaned, falling back into my hands.

Hermione giggled and rubbed my shoulder. "It's a Gryffindor thing, I think."

"Bleeding hearts- the whole lot of you."

"We're rubbing off on you, Draco dear." I could hear the smile in her voice before I elbowed her ribcage.

"I'm not above hitting a woman," I explained after she squeaked in surprise. "Thank you."

Unexpectedly, she went about her hugging routine and I gave her a nice double-tap on the back to enlighten her to my knowledge of her existence. She took the hint and smiled at me. No matter how noble Ronald wanted to be, Hermione was too good for him. She was too good for anyone.

"It's my pleasure, now, come eat with me so I don't have to talk to Ginny about Harry."

I agreed wordlessly and we spent a good deal of that evening simply talking about life here and after. The girl was absolutely lovely to be around. I wished that I had a friend like her instead of Pansy. Not that Pansy wasn't a friend in her own way, but she was definitely a user. I still argue with myself about her motives to this day.

It was well into the early morning when Hermione began to drift off. It must have been around three AM before she stumbled back to her own room, wished me good night, and let me make my way back to my empty bedroom.

I'd almost forgotten.

My bed was unusually cold as I settled into it, letting the blanket surround me while I turned on my side to look through the window.

It was a full moon that night, and somewhere, Harry was looking at the same moon.

That idea comforted me significantly as sleep ran its course.

./././.

"So, it wasn't always made of sunshine and rainbows?" Davis queried.

"No, I can't say that it was. Harry and I didn't get along well before the war, so it would only make sense that things would eventually turn back. I'm just surprised that I didn't see it coming."

"Did he come back? Harry I mean."

"Let's go outside," Draco suggested, ignoring Davis' question for another time, "We've been cooped up for days. Have you ever been flying?"

"I've watched, but I've never tried. I haven't gotten to that class yet."

The blond smiled. "Well, I'd love for you to at least give it a go."

Davis shrugged and that was all the encouragement Draco needed before he rallied up the equipment and the younger boy before leading them to the pitch. It was empty of course. Quidditch wasn't played much after the war, save for a few students still interested in the hobby.

"Okay, so you mount your broom like so- no, not like that- yes, one leg over top. Great. Now, push from the ground. Excellent."

Davis grinned at the compliments and leaned forward without thinking and began to move.

"W-whoa!" he stuttered while Draco watched curiously. "I wonder if-."

Before either boy could decide how it happened, Davis shot into the air at a speed Draco hadn't seen from any beginning flyer. Even in his surprise, Davis had excellent form. A plan crept into the blond's head immediately.

"Davis!" he called into the air. "I want you to chase after something for me."

Davis quirked an eyebrow in response and understood as a small golden ball was released into the air.

"A Seeker does this, right? That's my favorite player!"

Within fifteen minutes, Draco noticed Davis locate the ball and soar towards it with a much too precise skill.

"I got it!" the younger Slytherin yelled, not pulling up fast enough from his decent and colliding roughly into Draco. Both boys were knocked far into the ground, Draco taking most of the blow. "Oh, crap! Sorry- I wasn't thinking. I got so excited and I forgot!"

Even through the throbbing pain in his back from the bruises he was sure to find later, Draco couldn't help but laugh at the boy's apology.

"Davis!" he beamed. "That was incredible. You looked like you've been doing that for ages!" Draco was hardly ever impressed and this unexpected chance improved his spirits quite a bit. "You were fairly close to my best time at catching the Snitch. I've only ever made that time once."

"Really?"

"Really," the blond assured him.

Davis had a peculiar look on his face as Draco's smile faded. He was beginning to grow uncomfortable under the green eyes and squirmed a bit for Davis to understand that he was still very much on top of him.

Without much of a warning, Davis closed the gap between himself and the older Slytherin. He pressed his lips to Draco's in a chaste kiss that couldn't have lasted any longer than half a second.

The former Death Eater did not move during the act, whether that was from shock or will power, well, he didn't have a chance to consider.

Pulling away, Davis sighed.

"I know. I know," he said simply, and Draco knew exactly what he knew. "I'm not sorry, but I wanted to see how it would feel." Davis shrugged and moved off of Draco to stand. The younger offered his hand to aid the older, and Draco took it somewhat shakily. "I'm sorry you don't feel the same."

Draco attempted to convince himself that he hadn't felt the same. He loved Harry. He loved him with his entire heart. There wasn't anything left to give. When Harry had fallen…

"You're taken."

The blond nodded and released Davis' hand. A certain recognition passed over him in that moment.

"It's a shame really," Davis decided, releasing the Snitch back into the air. "I'll race you to it."

Draco was hardly following as Davis mounted and soared. "Oh, the first year has a set of skills. Scared, Draco?"

The grey-eyed Slytherin glared and smirked.

"You wish."


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Who You Are

_Chapter Fifteen: Who You Are_

Harry didn't return for three days. I wasn't much of an active participant of the house for the time between his leaving and returning. I hardly ate and only slept to pass the time. It was during one of my unconscious time management programs that I decided to return to society. I couldn't wait for Harry. If I decided to wait for anyone, I would get nowhere. I would be exactly where I started and that was on someone else's path. If Harry needed to do this on his own, then I couldn't stop him. If I wanted what was best for him, I would let him live his own life.

How mature of me.

I proceeded to shower and exited my room to join the rest of the house for dinner that evening, making sure to look as decent as I possibly could to erase any doubt of my lack of sanity during Harry's absence. It worked fairly well. I was welcomed by the group in a somewhat normal way. Fred and George put something explosive into my meal and laughed themselves hoarse when the food flew into my hair and onto my borrowed clothes. Molly joined in herself when I began to throw Hermione's meal at the twins. She said that it served them right and that's the only cue they needed to whip mashed potatoes in their mother's face as well.

The entire room was in an uncommon uproar. For once, it wasn't out of fear or strategic planning. We were laughing and enjoying the simplistic comedy of each other's misfortunes in the food department. This was easy. It was easy to forget for a moment and that surprised me. My body relaxed and I watched as Ginevra scowled at me, only serving to begin another fit of giggles from myself and even Hermione.

"Oh, lighten up Ginny!" she cried, breaking from her convulsions long enough to end the obvious hostility that would have ensued. "We're just having a bit of fun. You can always clean it up later."

Ginevra rolled her eyes and left the room. For once, no one felt the need to go after her.

"Spoil sport," the twins said in unison.

The rest of the dinner was spent in actually eating the food as opposed to throwing it around. I almost felt pathetic in calling these people my family, but that was what they had become.

Molly was always so supportive, the way a mother _should_ be. She genuinely cared for my wellbeing and only saw the best in the people she loved.

Hermione was a brilliant substitute for a sister. Always challenging me and being a constant thorn in my side, but lovely nonetheless.

The others were great cousins. People I wouldn't mind seeing once a year or so, but if I had to see them every day, I would most likely hang myself.

They were pleasurable company and sincere in their efforts. And now that they were growing fond of me as well, and dare I think it, loving me in return as a member of this unconventional family, well… it made my heart swell a bit. A very small bit that is insignificant to the naked eye of course.

They weren't perfect, but then again, neither was I.

It really hadn't occurred to me until that very moment that I was okay with my own imperfections. I'd spent all of this time falling in love with Harry's and had forgotten that I was as human as he was. I was allowed to make mistakes. I was allowed to be myself and each flaw made me unique and brought me to this very place.

If I hadn't made a mess of my life, I wouldn't have ended up here. Finding a family, finding love.

Huh, seems like there was a plan for me after all.

A rather loud thump quieted the room significantly as voices were heard in the next room.

Ronald's was first to sound and both Molly and Hermione bolted to the noise, quickly followed by the rest of the party. I stayed still where I sat, heart sinking as all of the prep work I had done disappeared when Harry's voice disturbed the air as well.

I excused myself and retired to the outside, the stars finally poking out from behind the clouds. Luckily, it was a warm night and if I didn't feel up to confronting Harry this evening, I could always sleep outdoors.

The grass tickled my bare arms and I focused on that sensation to occupy my time, counting the seconds between inhales and exhales.

"Mind if I join you?" a less familiar voice asked before sitting down at my side.

"I suppose it doesn't matter what I mind, eh, Weasley?"

He laughed a bit humorlessly and the silence ensued.

"Something particular you came out here for?"

Ronald didn't answer my question, he just huffed a rather large breath: almost as if he was mentally preparing himself for a marathon.

"Harry's sorry, you know. Wouldn't shut-up about the whole ordeal since we left. Bloody right annoyance if you ask me during a raid. Savior of the Wizarding World my arse." His tone was entirely serious as he tore apart his best friend. It was almost amusing. "Draco this and Malfoy that. I never even mention Hermione as much. I'd go insane. I had half the mind to kill the kid myself, end this whole rutty war."

"And what would you like me to do about that?"

"Talk to him? He's too terrified to talk to you himself. Turning into a Hufflepuff this one is."

I didn't respond right away. I was certain that the ginger child was being absolutely honest, but why did that make me responsible for Harry's apology?

"I don't think so," I decided, "Harry can talk to me. I'm not intimidating compared to him and it's his damn fault this all took place."

"Stubborn gits the both of you are, you know that? I'm going inside. Come with me and at least be in the same house with him. It'll give him a better chance to straighten things out."

I sighed in agreement, hurling myself away from the ground and dusting off the imaginary dirt from my backside as to look occupied while I reentered the house. Harry of course was the only person to greet us, the others having gone to bed because my luck is absolute shit.

"Ron, can I have a minute with Draco?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Sure, mate," Ronald said before leaning into my ear, "Go easy on the guy. He's a mess about it."

Silence stretched before I'd cleared my throat to alert him of the idea that we were both standing here with our tongues tied. "Can I help you with something, Potter?"

"I deserved that," he reasoned.

"Oh, stop with the brooding and self-loathing. It doesn't flatter you at all." I crossed my arms and waited for him to be himself again. I didn't want to have an argument with a bleeding heart Gryffindor. I wanted a sound discussion with an intelligent human being.

"What would you have me do?" Harry asked, an obvious pleading in his voice. "Say I'm sorry? Fine, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can't control my temper. I'm sorry I can't control my magic when I can't control my temper." His voice became softer. "I'm sorry for pushing you," he murmured before touching the tips of his fingers to the purpling bruise on my chest. I winced with the unexpectedness of it. "I'm sorry for just leaving without saying this sooner."

"Harry, I don't care about this nonsense you're babbling about. My bruise, well, that'll heal. That glass? It's cleaned up. You're alive and well now, so at least you've come back safe and sound. I'm not upset about any of that. I'm upset you don't trust that I know what's good for you." I retracted my gaze before continuing, staring at my hands that were tangling in themselves. "I love you. And that means I love you for everything you are. It doesn't draw a line, Harry. I understand that it's too early for you to feel the same, but I need you to trust me. You had me promise that I would trust and respect you as long as I lived in this house," taking a bold step forward, I forced Harry's eye contact to match mine. "I've done just that and I expect the same courtesies to be returned."

"I do trust you, it's just-."

"There isn't a 'just' when you care about someone. The grey areas shouldn't exist anymore. If they do for you, then I won't lie and say it doesn't hurt, but I won't force you to stay. Loving someone or even caring about someone means that you want what's best for them even if it hurts you in the process." I drew in a breath, not realizing that I'd spilled out my heart in one go. "If you're better off without me, at least have the decency to spit it out. I'm a big boy and I can handle it." The last was the most challenging thing to say, but definitely the most important. It left me vulnerable emotionally and that was happening far too often lately.

"Draco," Harry began hesitantly. It was almost as if he were trying my name out for the first time. "You're right."

My face couldn't have fallen any farther.

"If you care about a person, there aren't lines that can be crossed. You care for all of them or none of them." Harry swung his arm gently into mine and brushed his fingertips over my hand before lacing our fingers. "I care a great deal about you. A significantly greater deal than I should, considering our past. But, you're possibly one of the most important people in my life and I'm sorry for not telling you that sooner."

I laughed in little breaths, shaking my head in disbelief. "Apology accepted."

././././.

Draco decided to force Davis into his studies, realizing that he must have had an incredible build up of homework and projects since the beginning of his absence. Davis huffed and thought otherwise, really hoping that he could simply rely on his friends for an altered copy of their work. Draco assured him that these weren't muggle teachers he was dealing with anymore and that they had magic to detect that kind of thing. So, without too much grief, Davis went about his work in near silence. Every now and again Draco could hear a humming or a muttering of curses towards whatever book he was attempting to analyze.

The blond found himself watching the dark haired Slytherin in amusement. Davis studied in an odd fashion. He didn't use desks or chairs. He sat in the middle of his bed, a text in his right hand and used his left to flip through the pages.

"Perhaps you need stronger glasses," Draco commented after noticing that Davis was practically smelling his book at the distance it was from his face. "You know, they have charms for that. You wouldn't need those things anymore."

Davis made a half grin and continued reading while he spoke.

"I like them."

_I do too_, Draco thought- willing himself not to cringe. "Do you always read like that? Book in the right, pages with the left?"

Davis made a strange face, his head cocking to the side and his eyebrow rising. "Are you writing a book on me or something?" he teased, ceasing his laughter when the older Slytherin didn't respond in a proper grin. "Um, yeah. I guess I read like this all the time. I don't really like desks all that much. Too confined."

"But, _always_ your right hand? Do you always hold the book in your right hand?" Draco was panicking. He could tell that his voice was strangled and the hairs on his skin were rising.

"I suppose so," Davis humored before lifting his glasses from his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this a test or something because all of this homework is hard enough as it is."

Draco's heart was pounding in his chest and threatening to break through. He'd developed a theory that could very well change everything.

The older Slytherin stood and paced to the bed in front of Davis in silence. He observed without responding to the comments from the mouth in front of him. The hair, the eyes, the body, the mannerisms. Everything screamed a memory. No, it wasn't quite exact. There were quirks in nearly every trait, but they were so similar. Too similar to be coincidence.

"Davis, when's your birthday?"

"July 31st," he replied automatically. "It's passed already. Do you mind telling me what's with the inquisition?"

"Let me see your wand," Draco demanded, reprimanding himself for the hostility in his voice before asking in a gentler tone. "Please, Davis. Can I have a look at your wand?"

Davis didn't hesitate for a moment. He presented his wand to Draco in a moment, pulling it from beneath his pillows. He gasped at what he had seen.

"Holly," Draco observed, taking the piece of wood into his hand and weighing it. He'd known this wand well: having nearly died from it, having it pressed to his neck on several occasions, and having dueled against it. "Where did you get your wand?" Olivander had passed during the war. Wands were harder to come by now.

"It was sent to me. That's actually how I knew anything about Hogwarts."

"Do you know who sent it?"

Davis shrugged. "No, it came with a welcome letter that had already been opened. It was rather old looking as well. The ink was difficult to read through. But, obviously I could see it well enough to get here." Davis thought a bit harder. "I still have the letter, if you'd like to see it."

He riffled through the drawers near his bedside and pulled out a yellow stained parchment.

It certainly was older. The paper for letters of acceptance normally looked as clean and pristine as the school itself. At the lower corner of the page, Draco noticed a small phrase inscribed.

"Remember me," he whispered.

With the parchment in hand and Davis' wand as well, Draco sprinted from the common rooms and fled to the Gryffindor area of the castle. As if luck were finally trying to catch up with him, he ran deftly into a now perplexed witch.

"Draco," Hermione breathed, recollecting the air in her lungs, "Oh, it's so good to see you!" she declared, wrapping him into a hug that would have knocked the wind out of Draco if it already wasn't missing it from the collision.

"Hermione, what do you know about losing a body?"

"What do you mean?"

Draco was growing frantic and waving his arms about in an annoyed fashion. "I mean, can a body lose its soul and can that soul find another body?"

"Well, yes. I mean, if the body wasn't occupied at the time. I'm sure there's magic for that. If you can split the soul, I'm positive you can transfer it. In fact, I remember reading something about that. I think I have one of the books with me."

Hermione looked to the ground at her scattered novels and texts before selecting one that was much too heavy for any normal student to carry for light reading.

"Ah, here," she began, clearing her throat before flipping the pages. "A soul has twenty four hours to find its way home before disappearing completely. If it cannot resume the same form, it can find a new home. However, the soul is now surrounded by new memories and will most likely not be able to truly exist. The longer it takes to find a new body, the less of a chance the soul has of surviving. It becomes trapped in the foreign body, never to reveal itself again."

"So, no one has ever been able to come back from transferring a soul? Once it finds a new body, it's gone. Stuck behind old memories and unable to actually present itself."

"No, there's no case of that happening. Why? Oh- Draco you're not thinking about transferring your soul. Are you?" Hermione was filled with a genuine concern that Draco had missed terribly. "Please don't. Here, we'll go see Harry and Ronald. Everything will be fine."

Before Hermione could convince him any further, Draco ran back to the confines of his dormitory, calling for Davis only to find that he hadn't moved an inch since Draco's departure.

"Voldemort is still alive," Draco nearly wept and he slammed the door to Davis' room behind him. "Oh sweet blissful Merlin!"

Davis hadn't expected the attack as Draco pushed him far back into the pillows of his bed, crying in fierce sobs against his neck while Davis sat still in shock. "It's you. It's been you this whole time and I didn't know."

"Draco, please forgive the language, but what the piss are you going on about? Settle down or you're going to make yourself sick."

"That's the secret. Davis, I'm bound to that secret. I physically can't speak of it to anyone but Harry. Voldemort made me vow to keep it or he would destroy Harry's body as well. Sadistic bastard…"

"I still don't get it. Voldemort is alive? Well, wait- I thought Harry had killed him."

"You're still as dimwitted as ever, love," Draco beamed. "They killed each other. When a wizard dies, his soul leaves the body and has a certain amount of time to return if it is not entirely destroyed. Harry didn't get back to his body before Voldemort. So, he found the next best thing, a similar body with similar experiences that lacked a soul of its own." Draco laughed whole-heartedly. "Figures it would take Harry Potter to defeat the normal standards of a lost soul." Again, he chuckled warmly and ruffled through Davis' unruly mane.

"Are you telling me that I'm-."

"Harry James Potter," Draco finished, sweeping the smaller boy into his arms, "Harry James Potter."

"But, I can't be. I'm not him. I would know."

"No, you wouldn't. Davis, Harry was disappearing. He was being drawn into probably a thousand different directions. But, for some reason, he found you. He found a body that didn't have a soul of its own." Draco's face fell. He'd just told Davis that he hadn't much of a soul.

"Your dreams…" he tried to explain without mentioning a lack of soul. "What are they about?"

Davis must not have felt entirely put off by the simple fact because he decided to humor Draco. "There's one I suppose that I have more often than most. I'm in the woods somewhere and this figure appears. I can't understand him though. He's speaking some kind of other language. For some reason though, my body understands him and fires some spell in his direction. But, he's just as quick as I am and I fall. Normally I wake just before I hit the ground. But, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I don't fall. Sometimes another person is beside me and I can't make out whom he is, but he's not waking either and I've never been more lost than in that moment. I can't do a thing and I can't catch him.

"It's just a dream though," Davis quickly reassured himself.

"A dream that isn't yours. That's a memory, Davis. Harry's memory." Davis looked at Draco, dumbfounded and gaping.

"How do you know?"

"That boy beside you?" Draco recalled, "That boy was me."


	17. Chapter Sixteen: No Matter What

_Chapter Sixteen: No Matter What_

Draco felt entirely daft. Of course he had connected to this student; of course there was a reason behind the overwhelming similarities between Davis and his old Harry. The question now was what to do with the new information? How can one put a soul back? How can Harry, the only person that could defeat Voldemort, defeat him if Harry wasn't entirely there?

What could Draco do to change this? Souls weren't exactly Draco's specialty and he hadn't known anything about the possibility of a soul surviving as long as Harry's without a similar body to house it.

He'd given up on ever having Harry again, and here was the chance- the chance to feel for a second time. Something other than pain and loss and only having memories that continued to fade.

The older Slytherin paced the room and rarely made eye contact with Davis who still sat in complete and total shock at his shared identity.

"Davis, can I possibly go into your mind?" Draco suddenly asked, an idea formulating within his mind. Still, he hadn't looked to Davis' face, too secluded within his own scheme to remember to pause for reaction.

"Draco, you haven't even asked me to dinner yet," the brunette laughed, attempting to cut away at least an ounce of the tension. "What will that do?"

"Perhaps I can find Harry there," the blond mumbled either to himself or Davis.

"Well, what happens to me?"

Draco hadn't considered that another soul rested within Davis, and with that thought, he finally looked up. Davis was concerned, a fear overcoming the green within his eyes and a bravery straightening his posture to receive the blows of reality. It was one thing to not have much of a soul, but it was entirely another to have no soul at all. Of course it wasn't being used very frequently. Davis hadn't felt like an actual participating member of society until very recently, but that didn't mean that Davis wasn't still a person on his on accord.

"Davis, you _are_ Harry. I'm sure of it. But, that part of you is hidden well enough away. Voldemort can only be defeated by Harry. I know that I have my own selfish reasons for wanting Harry back, but there's also the fact that Voldemort is still generating a pulse. It isn't simply about me anymore, or you for that matter. It's about our world and the muggle world. As long as he exists, we aren't safe. And as long as Harry exists, we still have a chance."

The room fell silent again. Draco didn't dare to breathe or blink. If for some reason he distracted himself, he may lose this reality and along with that, any hope he remembered feeling since before the war.

Davis looked from left to right rather rapidly- as if he were trying to add some muggle contraption within his head.

"I'll do it," Davis whispered. "I'll let you look for him." The smaller boy shrugged, attempting, Draco thought, to hide the shaking that his body reflexively began doing.

"Are you sure? I can't promise I can bring you both back," the older Slytherin answered just as quietly.

"I'm sure. I'm not certain if this is Harry talking or not, but I'd rather go out for good than sit back and watch something evil when I could have helped stop it." Davis tried to smile and Draco returned it with the same sadness. He'd grown fond of this boy. Granted, he was able to connect so well because of Harry's existence within him, but for Harry to have found a home at all here, they had to be similar. Draco could have gotten along with this self-sacrificing wizard even as a muggle.

The older Slytherin sat beside the younger and obviously nervous preteen. Without preparing, Draco hugged Davis close and breathed in at his shoulder, willing himself not to cry. Davis clung desperately to the man in his arms and didn't hold back his own tears, allowing the salty substance to leak from his eyes and onto Draco's shirt.

"You know I'll try to find you both. If anyone can find a way to make this right, it's Harry. Once he's back, we'll find you. I promise," Draco muttered, not bothering to hide the sorrow behind his words.

"Just get on with it before I find that common sense I've been mistreating."

Needing no more prompting, Draco pulled back from the boy and rested his forehead against the one in front of him. Allowing his mind to mingle with Davis', Draco began to breathe, willing his magic to draw him into Harry's.

././.\.\.

Draco hadn't known exactly what he was searching for. He'd only ever mingled his soul with another's once and he wasn't exactly searching for it. In fact, it found him. And he hoped that it would try locating him again.

Harry's magic was different than anyone else's Draco had ever encountered. There was a power that could be felt from incredible distances. When close enough though, one could feel it to their core. Wrapped within it however, well, that feeling couldn't be compared.

If he needed to describe the feeling, Draco would say that mingling with Harry's magic felt like spinning at an alarming rate. There would be dips and pulls at your stomach with that ever pressing feeling of falling. It was intense, terrifying, and something that a normal person wouldn't want to feel again.

Draco hadn't been normal in quite some time.

So, on he trudged through Davis' mind, feeling for any sense of Harry.

Within what seemed a lifetime, Draco felt the jolt of a familiar presence: a memory.

Immediately he began to see the fuzzy outlines of a thought, one in which he was very much a part of. His first day entering the safe haven that Harry had created, the argument Harry had with Ron to allow Draco to stay. The ungrateful tone of Draco's voice as he secretly thanked Harry for protecting him.

However, as Draco moved faster, the memories grew older and more defined. His magical creatures class, or rather, Harry's. The Hippogriff nearly maiming him in his eyes, but to Harry's, Draco was simply frightened and hardly ever in danger. The Slytherin would have scoffed at the memory if he weren't immediately bombarded with another. Perhaps the most important.

His first encounter with Harry at Madam Malkin's. His first impression, one that would lead to his hatred of the Boy Who Lived- or rather, envy. He watched through Harry's eyes as his own hand was offered, a smug gleam in his younger and unseeing self. His Malfoy endorsed smirk and slicked back hair. His rounded chin pointing out ever so slightly upward in arrogance.

Draco watched as that hand was ignored. He watched as the pride in his eyes dimmed- embarrassment taking its place. Draco saw the first sign of genuine concern for Harry then. He studied how his younger self seemed to cower inward, helplessly seeking this other boy's acceptance and being denied what was always simply given.

It would have bruised the blond's ego if he hadn't known what all of that blind hatred led to.

Harry was close, so close that Draco could just feel the edge of his magic. The memory grew stronger as the Slytherin tried not only to see through Harry's eyes, but feel as Harry felt- trying to connect to the Gryffindor in each sense.

_Find me_, Draco begged. _I need you to find me, Harry. I can't lose you._

_Draco_, the blond felt more than heard.

In a sudden rush of power, Draco could feel Harry. He could feel his hair, his smile, his glasses pressed against the bridge of his nose, hear his laugh, feel it rumble through his body.

And all went white.

././.\.\.

"I'm going to fight Voldemort tomorrow," Harry blurted quietly, combing his fingers through my hair as we sat in his study near the fireplace. "I haven't told anyone. I don't want anyone coming with me."

I immediately sat upright and nearly lost my eyes at how wide my stare was becoming.

"You can't be serious," I nearly laughed, finding absolutely no humor at all in the matter, but far too uncomfortable not to fill the silence. "Are you out of your bloody mind?"

"You don't think I can beat him?" he asked. Normally, I would have fought him on the topic, knowing that he was only trying to get a rise out of me with such a statement. However, his face dropped and his eyes dimmed with uncertainty.

I sighed and cupped his face gently, adjusting my position to better comfort myself. "Of course I believe in you. You're the only person that can defeat him. But, Harry, what if he catches you off guard? I haven't taught you everything I know. I mean- we have time, don't we? We can train more- we can wait… Talk to Hermione."

Harry shook his head.

"No, the longer I wait, the more people die. I can't have this on me anymore, Draco. It's too much."

"You're Harry Potter for Christ's sake, it's never 'too much!'" I could have hexed him there myself. He wasn't in the right state of mind.

"I didn't know you were religious," he tried humoring. If his nervous laugh hadn't concerned me, I wouldn't have allowed such a joke to be made of my obvious outrage.

"I wasn't before you came along, Potter." I settled back into Harry's chest, counting his breaths as though I may never hear them again. "Why are you telling me this? Why not just run off. Haven't your Muggles heard of that 'ignorance is bliss' phrase? They aught to have taught the savior of the wizarding world something as simple as that."

Harry wasn't laughing. Or really doing much of anything aside from ceasing to breathe. "Breathe, Potter," I reminded him in a whisper. "You can't stop before you've even gone up against him."

"I'm telling you because I don't know when or if I'll come back. Ron and Hermione deal with that everyday. They've been with me throughout my life knowing I might not be there to see the rest of theirs. You've spent the majority of your life wishing that I would disappear," he stopped himself, waiting for my reaction to his statement. How could I argue? That was the truth. "It's just that this is so new, and I don't want you to hurt anymore than you have to and I guess if I warn you before- well, you could-."

"I could, what?" I asked incredulously, "Get over it easier? Heal faster? Feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that I'm the only one that gets to truly say goodbye to the great Harry Potter? I'll clue you in on something." I sat up again, straddling Harry and pressing my finger into his chest to emphasize each syllable. "If you go anywhere, no matter how long I have to get used to it, I won't be able to forget it. It won't hurt less. I won't feel like things will be the same. You're a part of me- you always have been and I won't settle for giving up. I can't say goodbye to you. It would kill me to think that you weren't coming back."

Somewhere between jabbing Harry and running out of air to speak, I realized just how truly frightened I was. My heartbeat was erratic as the tears in my eyes formed on their own accord. Before I could protest, a calloused hand wiped the falling drop from my cheek. The hand remained even after the tear was gone and he pulled my face gently to his. His lips grazed mine softly and my fists bunched into his shirt to the point of white knuckles. It wasn't long before my emotions overcame my mind and I attacked Harry, devouring his mouth with as much passion as I could muster. He needed to feel everything that I was feeling. He needed to know that the only reason I was still alive and functioning was because of him. If he left, I left. Wherever he went, I would follow. He would be the first and only person I would willingly follow into hell and back. You know; if you believe in that sort of thing.

Harry moved away from my mouth to make time for breathing- still keeping his lips attached to something. My neck was under the abuse since apparently the Gryffindor didn't need to breathe. How perfect, he didn't even need air.

I only had a moment to register my own sarcasm before I had realized something quite important.

I wasn't clenching the fabric of Harry's shirt anymore. There was nothing in my hand but the feel of smooth, warm skin. A very naked Harry Potter sat beneath me and I could do nothing but gawk. Both at Harry's newly discovered state and the fact that he would have needed to do wandless magic in order to remove his clothes. His sheer amount of power was nearly too attractive.

I am a Slytherin after all. And a Malfoy by blood. It would only be natural for me to feel an irrational amount of want and desire over such a thing as wandless magic.

"Is this," the boy beneath me cleared his throat, letting his head fall slightly to avoid my obvious stare and gesturing between us. "Is this okay?"

I tipped his face upward before placing the smallest kiss on his nose that twitched slightly. "You haven't even asked me to dinner yet." It was beautiful to see him like this, to be the _only_ person to see him like this. Harry, for the life of him, could not understand how wonderful he truly was. He offered everything and asked for nothing in return. He loved with a selfless passion, kissed with an intensity of forever and lived each moment as his last. Harry was perfect no matter how he much denied even the slightest hint towards that notion. Even now, knowing how strongly I loved him, he still felt as if I would turn and run for my life. He still felt as though his intimacy would be rejected.

I hadn't expected our first time to be a preemptive event to a war. I never wanted our first time to simply be because it could be the last time, but I would take Harry in any way he would give himself to me. I loved him more than anything I could remember. I doubted that I would ever love anyone as much ever again.

So, it's only to be expected that I accepted Harry's request easily, sealing his lips with my own before he could babble some nonsense about me not having to do this. The boy was predictable. But, as much as I try, I can never force him to just accept that I know what's best for me.

Shoving at my chest, he forced me away just far enough to peck at my lips while asking, "Draco, you're sure? I'll only do this if you're sure. I won't ever force you to do anything you don't want to or pressure you because I may not come back tomorrow. I just really feel like I'm ready and I can't imagine leaving this world without at least feeling what it would be like to just-."

He couldn't finish his sentence and I couldn't help but laugh at him quietly, shaking my head in disbelief.

"If it were up to me, Harry, we would have been worshipping each other since my arm nearly fell off. And if I wouldn't have been so utterly blind, I would have made it much sooner than that." Because I couldn't produce wandless magic and didn't, at the moment, have my wand on me, I began to undo the buttons of my shirt. Keeping eye contact for the entire process. "I want this. I want you. The war doesn't matter to me nearly as much as you do. The only thing I could possibly lose in this war is you and if for a second you doubt that, then you're doubting me and I will not stand for your misunderstandings when it comes to the nature of my feelings for you."

He remained silent, most likely trying to make sense of the mouthful I'd just uttered.

"I love you, you twit. I love all of you," and with the last word, my shirt fell from my shoulders and I took hold of Harry, his answering gasp urging me forward and willing my mouth to connect with any and all of the savior's skin. I decided upon his neck, realizing that I would never do anything to muffle the beautiful noises he was making.

With the right twist of my hand, Harry would nearly choke on a sigh or bite his lip, creating this high moan that resembled an echoed squeak. If the lightest touch to Harry's member was accompanied by nipping the very edge of his earlobe, Harry would buck harshly and mutter a whispered, 'fuck,' as if he couldn't control himself.

The very sound of a curse word coming from his mouth, voice heavy and thick from need or want made the blood rush to a now welcomed place and it wasn't long before my own pants had vanished without my prompting, and I was able to bring our bodies together. I couldn't tell who had screamed first, but it didn't matter as the noises blended together.

Nothing else mattered.

"Draco," he panted into my mouth when the need to taste him became too much, "Draco, can you-."

"Can I, what?" I asked. I couldn't ignore the obvious annoyance in my voice towards Harry breaking our unraveling.

"I want you."

"I want you too, Potter." It wasn't until I felt him still that I realized we weren't speaking of the same thing. "What do you mean?"

"I want you to be the first to- well." He swallowed thickly. "I don't want to have control for once."

His eyes were so full and terrified of letting another take charge, but he was a Gryffindor after all. They didn't know how to not be brave. My own eyes must have been huge with surprise. I assumed that Harry would be the one to make love to me. He never seemed to submit to anyone.

So, I swallowed myself and reeled in my Slytherin cockiness, relishing the fact that the Savior, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived was submitting to me. The Dark Lord couldn't even accomplish this.

I suppose love was one of the most powerful magic's after all.

My smirk didn't hold its usual sarcastic sneer. "I'll be the last person as well if I have anything to say about it."

I pushed Harry back onto the rug, taking my time to simply look at him. The dimming fire highlighted the tan of his olive skin and made him look surreal- glowing. If this would be the last night we'd have together, I would commit each trait to memory.

Harry's flushed cheeks, his chest rising and falling at a considerable rate. The sweat forming on the top of his brow. His mouth, slightly ajar, as if he would like to say something, but he kept himself from ruining the moment. His arms flung over his head in a silent surrender.

And his eyes, a green as intense as an emerald fire- fear marring the edges, but courage encompassing the whole and maybe not a strong enough sense of love, but a need and a will power far stronger than my own.

I would never forget this moment. I would never forget this man. Not as he was, is and would be. Because Harry would come back to me.

I couldn't believe anything else.

"You're beautiful," he said suddenly.

The corner of my mouth rose slightly. "So are you."

I carefully laid myself on top of Harry and reveled in the fact that we fit so perfectly. His arms wrapped around my waist immediately and began to tickle up and down my spine, causing me to shiver. I took control of that situation quickly, placing my fingers to Harry's mouth, wordlessly asking him to moisten them before preparation. He seemed to understand and he took the digits into his mouth. The sight alone was too much and I removed my hand before I became absolute mush in Harry's grasp.

He tensed at the intrusion that I didn't wait to make. I reprimanded myself inwardly as his face twisted.

"Should I stop?" I asked, kissing his temple.

"N-no. Just getting used to it is all." He forced a smile and kissed my forehead in return. "Keep going. I'll be alright."

It wasn't long before I'd found the part of Harry that would make him a pile of nerves and pure need.

If his sound before had made me nearly faint, I was a God for not falling apart now. Harry moaned in a language I couldn't understand. The snake within me came alive at his unknowing speech.

"Harry, say more," I begged rather than commanded.

His answering hiss drove me to a new point that I hadn't known possible. Each syllable made no sense and all the sense in the world. Like what we had, it didn't make an ounce of sense and yet it was the only right thing I could think to do.

Without much warning, I placed myself at Harry's entrance, trying with much difficulty not to plunge into the awaiting heat. When he relaxed at the near intrusion, I inhaled heavily and with the exhale began to cover myself.

The brave Gryffindor beneath me shuddered and I noticed a stray tear falling from his eye. I leaned forward and brushed some hair from his damp forehead, his eyes clamped shut. My lips touched his scar gently and he began to breathe again.

"Have I ever told you why I love you?" I asked, pushing in a bit more.

Harry shook his head, still not ready to form sentences. Afraid of screaming I presumed.

I needed to stay collected for him. I forced myself to still. "It's the way you looked at me when I first came here. You didn't look disgusted, you had hope- faith in me." A bit deeper. A bit more relaxed. "It's the way you stayed over my bed for days when I ended up in the hospital. No one's ever stayed for anything other than fear." Deeper. Relaxed. "The way I wake up and you're there- just toying with my hair or waiting for me to wake so I don't have to feel alone." Finally. "You've been a part of my life for nearly my entire life. I knew you before we met, and I've loved you for everything you've ever been."

I promised him with a kiss and searched successfully for the spot within Harry that would make him cry out again in a language I would always love and never understand.

Harry mewled after my final words and arched into me, pulling my face back to his to devour every inch he could find. I returned the favor happily and slowly but consistently nudged at Harry.

I felt myself growing closer and took Harry into my hand. With a few careful twists, Harry's face lit up, his head thrown back and a cry escaping his perfect, kiss bruised lips.

Forcing myself to commit the picture to memory, I reached my own perfect oblivion and shouted Harry's name before seeing stars and falling into the warmest embrace I could ever imagine.

It may have been hours before I had moved an inch, still registering that I was buried in the Boy Who Lived. Upon attempt at moving, a strong arm held me closer and scraped down my spine again.

"Please don't move." I nearly didn't recognize the voice. It had been so long since I'd understood it. "Just stay here with me for a while."

I nodded into his chest and sighed. "I'll stay forever if you'd like."

"At least until morning."

Again, I could only nod as exhaustion tried desperately to pull me under.

"Draco?" Harry whispered.

"Yes?" I asked just as quietly, my hands stroking his chest and tracing the shape of his abdominals.

"I'd like you to know that I love you. No matter what happens. I love you."

I closed my eyes against Harry. I didn't want to hear it now, not now when he could be gone within the next few hours. Not now when we've only had such a small amount of time to truly know each other.

But, I was hearing it. And the small part of me that continued to feel optimism and told me everything was going to be all right elated at the thought.

Harry forced me to believe, something I hadn't done in a lifetime.

"Then come back to me and prove it," I challenged, still hiding my face.

"No matter where or what I am, I'll always love you. Death won't change that."

And for the life of me, I couldn't doubt him.

Lifting my head to kiss Harry sweetly against his cheek, I let my gaze sink into his.

"Goodnight, Love. I'll be seeing you."

/././.\.\.\

Draco awoke as if from a pleasant dream. His head felt light and unorganized as he recounted the memory and tried desperately to remember where he was and what he was doing.

"Draco?" a voice called from across the room. "Are you awake?"

The Slytherin grunted in response and sat upright. "Yes, Davis. I suppose it didn't work."

The boy across the room walked cautiously over to Draco and sat directly in front of him. Lifting a tan hand to his pale cheek, the smaller boy trembled as the skin made contact.

"No matter where or what, remember?"

It then dawned on Draco that he was no longer in foreign company.

Here was his Harry. His plan had worked.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Have A Little Faith

_Chapter Seventeen: Have a Little Faith in Me_

"Harry?" Draco started- hardly registering the voice as his own. The sound caught in his throat produced an inflection finally resembling present tense as opposed to past tense in reference to Harry. "Are you-."

"It's funny," the brunette mused, retracting his hand and staring at the digits- examining the knuckles and testing the joints. "To have control over a body that isn't your own, but similar at least in past memories. It's fairly simple to leave thoughts and suggestions in a near comatose person, but actual movement… I suppose that required some assistance. A bit of encouragement on yours and Davis' part."

Draco didn't speak. He couldn't begin to formulate any kind of coherent thought to words. Luckily for him, Harry had enough to say for the both of them.

"And Slytherin attire. Of course- this could have been some kind of reality a few years back, so I suppose it's appropriate." Harry looked at Draco through Davis' eyes before getting up to pace and wonder. "But, you knew that already." His smile was so small, careful, reserved. As if he didn't trust his surroundings. As though freedom was too profound a concept to actually be true. Draco mimicked a similar emotion- too afraid to reach out and touch something he thought may be an illusion. If the image disappeared, so would Harry along with the last shred of hope Draco held for any kind of future.

The true Slytherin thought that perhaps the reason he had lived through these past few months was because some part of him knew Harry still existed. And as long as he was somewhere- Draco could spend his life trying to find Harry.

Even failing at the attempt of locating was far better a life goal than moving forward alone.

"I've only ever been in the Slytherin dormitories once, but again, you knew that as well."

"You weren't you then, either," Draco recalled.

Harry nodded, the same smile still plastered to his adjusting face. "No, I wasn't." Again, he looked at his hands and felt over himself. "He's very much like me. A tad bigger, but I _was_ rather scrawny before coming here. Same restless hair," he thought before running a foreign hand through his mane. "Same nose- or would have been."

Draco breathed a sudden laugh, remembering breaking Harry's nose in sixth year. The Boy Who Lived, again, looked to Draco's eyes at the sound of the humor. The corner of his mouth quirked upward. "You remember, then."

"As if I would forget."

Harry walked to Draco, sitting about a foot away from the Slytherin on the edge of the bed. Unconsciously, Draco moved backwards, still too frightened of what this all might mean. Harry saw the flinch and leaned away as well, his gaze being retracted with his pride.

"What should we do now?" Harry asked through a stiff jaw. "Obviously you've brought me back to finish Voldemort. We should finish it as soon as possible then, so I can finally get on with this death thing- move out of Davis here and let him live a normal life."

"You mean to die?" Draco asked in a small voice. His stomach lurched at the idea.

"There doesn't seem to be any other way." His voice was stern, not a fraction of uncertainty. "There doesn't seem to be a reason for me to find an alternative solution either."

Draco understood immediately and his shoulders stiffened. The pride welling up inside of him enough to overflow the confines of the room. He'd had seventeen years to perfect this mask of indifference and he would be damned if the small amount of time Harry existed with him did anything to change his core.

"Right, then," the blond agreed. "I don't believe he suspects that you're still alive."

"That seems accurate. I did hear quite a bit of confidence in his pact with you before I was being pulled away. Very arrogant of him to do such a thing- inviting me to share in your secret, using my blood. He's a clever wizard, but he has a modesty problem."

Again, Draco could not get over the tinge of awe that overcame him at Harry's fearless attitude towards the wizard that had become a permanent hazard to his wellbeing.

"How though," Harry began, "did you know Davis held me? If you were wrong, uttering the secret would have killed you."

Of course that idea had crossed Draco's mind. However, some things were worse than death. Harry taught him that. "Physically, Davis was similar. His glasses, that mop of hair. But, there were smaller things- his strength," Draco recalled, having slept in Davis' arms. "His manner, almost forgetting his magical abilities. How he read a text, his unnatural talent in Seeking. Could have probably beaten your best time if given the right training. And he cares too much, nearly as much as you did."

"You act as if that's past tense. I don't care anymore?"

"I wouldn't know," the Slytherin expressed, rising from his bed and walking towards the doors to his room- not certain if he planned on leaving, but feeling comfort in the door behind him.

"I thought you would know better than anyone."

"Yeah, I thought so too. So, what are we going to do?"

Harry shook his head and sighed, Draco could have sworn he heard disappointment in the sound, "I suppose I'll kill him and you can bring Davis back like you did for me."

"I don't know Davis' magic like I know your magic. I could feel yours anywhere. Davis shouldn't even have magic. What am I supposed to find?"

The Savior shrugged. "I don't know. But, you'll do it. You've accomplished more difficult things."

Draco nodded and laced his arms across his chest, hearing not only the irony in the comment, but the bitter rivalry. He pled with his heart to remain strong. There would be none of this sappy feeling again if Harry wanted to forget. "A plan, then?"

Harry rose, still feeling unbalanced by the new weight of Davis' body. "We'll need to get him alone. Detention perhaps? Cause a scene in the Great Hall. Call out the 'Boy Who Lived.'"

"I can do that. It wouldn't be strange for me to cause a fuss with Harry Potter considering our past, would it?" Draco feigned indifference at the comment, checking for imaginary dirt under his nails.

"Brilliant, then." The compliment held nothing but malice and forced tolerance.

The blond laughed then, a laugh so tired and so strained that it was almost pathetic. "What happened to you while you were gone?"

"Not too much considering I was trapped in another body. I got to think, I dreamt most of the time. I watched Davis' reality. I saw him meet you and comfort you and hear your story." Harry crossed his arms over his own chest as well before clearing his throat. "I saw him catch the Snitch." Draco knew what came next. "I saw him kiss you."

"Is that why you're being such an utter prat right now?" Draco bellowed, wanting to rip the hairs from his head. "A first year that only exists here because of you _kisses me_ and that's what really grinds your gears? That finally stumps the all mighty Harry Potter?"

"I'm being the prat? Draco, I saw you with him- I hadn't seen you so happy before." The smaller boy's arms flew into the air with no sincere direction or purpose; "I don't even remember you being that happy with me when I was actually myself. You flinched when I tried to touch you a moment ago, but not when you thought I was Davis."

"You've got to be bonkers. Absolutely insane out of that bloody wonderful head of yours. Did it occur to you that maybe I was happy because I was talking about _us_? An 'us' that I didn't believe could exist at one point? Maybe I was happy because Davis let me speak of you as if you were still here. I could pretend for a bit that things weren't as terrible as they were. And like you said, _he_ kissed _me_. I hadn't any say in the matter."

Harry scoffed, "You enjoyed it! I felt it, Draco. You may not have asked for it, but you certainly didn't protest much. And he's eleven. No doubt you could have pushed the sodding hormone driven kid away."

"How dare you!" Draco spat, standing close enough now to make Harry feel his breath against his face. "He was _you!_ The boy reminded me of _you_, and Merlin's beard, Potter! He _was_ you at the end of the day. He didn't feel like himself, and would you like my theory? Davis didn't want it either. Harry, he was gaining your memories. I'm assuming that the stronger you became, the more Davis felt like another person. He was feeling the way you felt, and my reminiscing only made things more confusing for him. If anything, feel angry at Voldemort- kissing him was something I wanted because he actually is you… physically of course."

The raven-haired man rolled his eyes. "That didn't offend me at all actually. At the very least, he was me. You were attracted to me- not an eleven year old."

"Physically, you dolt! Do you have any ounce of a clue as to how sick the act made me? I think I may have vomited if Davis hadn't barged in. It was disturbing and unforgivable. I knew he wasn't you and I let him have me. The monster came to me and ruined any ounce of self respect I may have had left." Draco's eyes closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You never really went away. Do you know what that can do to a person? Watching the man they've fallen in love with become something twisted and demented? Not being able to tell the masses that this isn't their hero?"

Harry remained silent.

"I've never wanted anything more than what I may have had with you. Davis had the parts of you that I admired most. Your courage, your stubborn nature, your nobility and charm. The way you never seem to desist." Draco opened his eyes again to stare as intently as he could into the less transfixing orbs of Davis, trying desperately to see his Harry. "If I ever looked at Davis as anymore than a friendly companion, it was because I was seeing _you_."

The Slytherin's mouth quirked upwards at the corner and fell again in its sadness.

"So, you're saying you're not in love with Davis?" Harry's voice was quiet and reserved, his lack of confidence stunned Draco to no end.

"How on earth could I possibly love anyone other than you?"

With his final breath, Draco took Davis' face in his hands, seeing no one other than Harry and pressed his lips firmly to the eleven-year-old boy's. With his eyelids fluttering shut, he could feel the Gryffindor clearly. No one kissed as Harry did, always giving more than taking. The way his left hand immediately went to wrap around Draco's waist, attaining as much closeness as possible. And the right, anchoring itself into platinum blond hair, tilting it just so in order to mold his mouth to Draco's. The Slytherin's neck needed to dip a bit lower than he remembered- seeing as Harry had grown substantially over the years and Davis hardly compared to Harry's current look. His form was a boyish scrawny as opposed to Harry's strong, lithe form. But this was his Savior, no matter the package he came in, this was Harry James Potter- the boy he grew to hate and the man he learned to love.

Slowly, the kissing became less frantic and ended in playful pecks against cheeks. In his smaller state, Draco could hold Harry protectively, something he never felt capable or deserving of before.

"Do you really mean to die, Harry? To go away forever?"

"It didn't seem so tragic when I thought you'd forgotten everything," Harry admitted, burrowing a bit deeper into Draco's chest and inhaling deeply. "Your smell hasn't changed. Always so clean."

"I haven't forgotten a thing," the blond promised, pressing his lips into dark hair. "We can find a way to bring you both back. I promised Davis. And we can try for forever if we have to. I don't think I can make it if you actually don't exist anymore."

"That's a lot of pressure," Harry attempted laughing.

"You've seen worse. But, first is first. We need to get you two together. You need to kill his soul without killing your body. Is it possible to kill him?"

"I think he's holding onto what was left in me of him."

Draco's eyebrow rose along with his confusion. "What are you going on about?"

Harry heaved a sigh and separated himself. "I'm a horcrux, Draco. When he tried to kill me, a piece of his soul was left. That's most likely why he could live in my body. He's always been there."

"But, no one ever thought to look," Draco remembered- hearing Voldemort in Harry's voice.

"I don't know how to kill him without killing me."

Thoughts and possibilities began to race through Draco's mind. "Harry, what if that piece was already killed? When he aimed for you and you were forced away, what if that piece of him left you?"

"That's all fine and dandy, but that doesn't change the fact that I can't kill him without losing my body in the process. Voldemort's body died instantly after I'd cursed him. Mine hadn't. There must have been something else that he did differently."

"Only you can kill Voldemort. Could you kill yourself?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, his voice rising at the end as only a prepubescent boy's could.

"Could you kill yourself? With the killing curse? I don't think it works unless you sincerely want to kill yourself. You would only then be killing Voldemort, right? You, on the other hand, would be safe. Your body wouldn't die because the curse wouldn't be directed at you."

"If your theory is right, sure. But, what if you're wrong?"

Draco considered this, encouraging his superior smirk to come from hiding. "A Malfoy is hardly ever wrong, Potter."

"I may have heard that mentioned before. Turns out it was a load of shit."

"I may know someone you can trust with matters of text book accuracy."

Harry then followed Draco as he led them from the Dungeons. This new body was difficult to move with, but he managed to keep up while nearly sprinting the staircases that moved on their own accord. It hardly took over a moment to realize where they were heading- the Gryffindor tower.

"Draco, why are we here?" the smaller boy asked, whispering as quietly as he could- feeling unnaturally tense and vulnerable.

"Do hush, Davis. I need to speak with Granger." Draco knocked three times on the portrait guarding the dormitories of the Head Girl's rooms. When the portrait ceased its yelling, a bushy haired student answered with a rather confused smile.

"Hermione," the Slytherin began, nodding his head in greeting, "I would very much like a word with you. If you don't mind, I brought another Slytherin along. He's rather shy. Not much of a talker really."

"Of course, come in. It's lovely to see you Draco, and your name is?" Hermione gestured towards her foreign guest.

"Davis, miss. I've read quite a bit about you in the _Profit_. Friend of Harry Potter's?" Draco watched as Harry struggled not to overreact to seeing one of his oldest friends.

"Quite right, Davis. Do come in though, please."

As the door closed behind the three students, Harry quietly took a seat and fidgeted with his thumbs while taking inventory of the room to occupy his mind.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? I must admit that I was rather nervous for you when we bumped into each other in the hallway, talking about if someone could survive without a body. I don't want to pry, Draco, but what's happened? You've worried me- not being around and all. And then when you're spotted, you're either a complete wreck or on about some crazy discoveries or epiphanies. I know break-ups are hard, but dear, Harry isn't himself lately. Can you blame him? He'll eventually come back to his senses."

"Can someone use the killing curse on themselves?" Draco asked, ignoring anything Hermione was going on about.

"I suppose so, if they truly wanted to. I believe a few green sparks appear otherwise. Ronald tried it once, when Harry hadn't returned and his brother passed. He hadn't wanted to die though. He just didn't know what else to do."

"Ron tried to kill himself?" Harry chimed from the corner.

Hermione tilted her head in near amusement. "You know Ronald?"

"N-no. I don't know him really. Just what I read I mean…" Harry raked a hand through his already chaotic mane and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It's just, I never read anything about that, and I assumed everything about Harry Potter and his friends was public knowledge."

The witch shook her head, "No, Davis. Not everything is in print. Draco can tell you that."

The true Slytherin nodded in agreement.

"You look remarkably like Harry when he was younger," Hermione observed. "Even have that same nervous habit he had with his hair." An idea seemed to be cultivating within Hermione's brain. "I'll bet you're starved. I didn't see either of you at dinner this evening."

Draco was beginning to feel nervous and could almost see what was happening next.

"Care for some Treacle Tarts? I like having them around since Harry can normally eat a whole plate, not so much lately, but when he gets to be himself again, I'd like to have them available."

Without warning, Harry burst from his chair and collected half of the treats in his smaller hands, taking more than a mouthful on the first bite, his eyes welling up as he tried not to choke.

"I haven't had these in a lifetime," Harry declared after swallowing the tarts whole. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Harry."

"But, how could you-," the smaller boy tried before an unexpected embrace from the witch tackled him. She began to cry into his shoulder, a smile plastered to her face.

"Harry, I've missed you so much! You can't possibly understand how strange it's been to see you and know that you're not behind the same face."

"I believe I can relate," Draco mused, "Cleverest witch of her time, indeed."

"I wouldn't say you're the cleverest of wizards, but you were smart enough to find Harry."

"Apparently, I found him," Harry smiled, detaching himself from Hermione. "And he's pretty clever to me."

"Thanks." Draco rolled his eyes and settled back into a serious notion. "Hermione, why didn't you say anything?"

"For the same reasons you didn't."

"You're bound too?" the Slytherin wondered aloud, knowing she hadn't the slightest clue.

"No, no one would have believed me. Whoever that is, he's perfect at being Harry. You would think that he's known every detail of Harry since he was born." Hermione stopped then- realization hitting her like the Hogwarts train. "Because he has, hasn't he? He's known him since the day he was born. Draco, Harry didn't kill Voldemort, did he?"

"He can't say, Hermione."

"Oh… that was why you asked me about souls. Oh, Draco." Normally the sympathy would drive Draco mad with rage, however, he understood Hermione needed to feel for him. The bleeding hearted Gryffindor. "Harry, what are we going to do?"

Draco couldn't retain the smile that threatened to break. Immediately after uncovering the truth, Hermione was willing to help in any way possible. He'd missed her too. He'd missed the whole lot of them.

"We need to kill him," the blond stated matter-of-factly. "And save Harry's body in the process. I think the killing curse will only kill Voldemort, but of course there are doubts."

"I'm willing to risk it."

Hermione sighed, "Of course you are. How can I help?"

"Reassure me that this idea isn't crazy. Tell me how we can remove Harry from Davis and back into his own body."

"Transfer is simple. I'll work on those spells myself; it's targeting the energy that Harry will need to perfect. I know that time isn't on our side, but Harry can only do this once. Otherwise he loses the element of surprise, something we're lucky to have."

Draco forced himself to believe that this could work. Harry was born to kill Voldemort. The right side always won. That was simple fact. And as the saying goes, 'Everything is alright in the end, and if it isn't alright, then it's not the end.'

"I can do this, Draco. I would have done this before if he hadn't beaten me back to my own body." The physically older boy hadn't realized that he was shaking before Harry placed Davis' hand on his shoulder and felt the affect of his convulsions. "Have a little faith. You can get him alone; I know you can. He won't kill you in public- then leave the rest to me."

"Can't simply do what's good for you, can you?" Draco sighed, pulling the hand on his shoulder into his own and lacing his fingers through the smaller digits.

Harry laughed, a truly lovely sound. "I'm Harry Potter. I don't know how to simply do what's good for me."


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Pride and Desperation

_Chapter Eighteen: Pride and Desperation_

Draco awoke in his own dormitories, deciding that sleeping alongside Harry in Davis' body would prove to be too uncomfortable to manage.

Harry stayed with Hermione and Draco supposed that the two caught up on the lives they've missed out on. And by 'lives,' Hermione's was more in question, considering Harry's had been spent literally in the back of someone's mind.

The thought of the future wracked the blond's nerves to absolutely no end. It was one thing entirely to have no hope, but having hope meant that you could fail, or have that hope taken away. In all honesty, his logic wanted nothing more than to be alone and numb.

However, when Harry was within reach, logic always seemed to take an extended vacation.

Draco stretched languidly and stared at the ceiling, deciding if he would rather stay and enjoy what he could accept as a pleasant dream or begin what could very well be his last chance.

He chose to revel in the silence for a moment, just a moment of peace to think.

Harry was real, existing. Draco didn't need to live in memory for the present.

Voldemort could be defeated entirely this time.

Hermione knew. He didn't need to bear this secret alone.

This was reality; this was the present. Draco restrained himself from pinching his own skin to make certain of that fact.

What Draco couldn't understand though was that Harry, his Harry, was in this castle somewhere and he wasn't there with him.

If everything didn't turn as planned, he would never have this opportunity again.

With the sickening idea of losing Harry serving as motivation, Draco tore himself away from his covers and made leave for the towers.

The hallways were empty as the Slytherin journeyed. Draco hadn't an inkling as to what the time was, however, he assumed that it was at least breakfast time and that the majority of the school was consuming some sort of unhealthy slop.

The time of day and eerie quiet of the castle sent a rather odd chill up and down Draco's spine. He could not, for the life of him, shake the feeling of eyes boring into his back.

Too terrified to turn around, he continued on his path, hoping to reach his destination before his possible follower did.

Upon reaching the doors to Hermione's rooms, Draco inhaled slowly and glanced behind himself.

There was nothing.

His exhale was shaky, but a welcome relief quickly rushed over him before knocking.

Hermione opened the portrait door too quickly for Draco's liking, almost as if she expected him to arrive. That made sense of course, and the blond inwardly reprimanded his paranoia.

"G'morning, Hermione. Where's our condensed hero? Still asleep?"

The witch smiled, the gesture forced as it didn't reach her eyes and she stood with the door mostly closed. Her gaze seemed to flicker as if she only just ceased crying and she was trying to retract a fresh set of tears.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, stepping close enough to whisper and still have Hermione hear him clearly.

"Nothing," she spoke, her eyes disagreeing with the statement. "Harry went to breakfast. He wanted to see everyone."

"You let him leave alone?"

"Draco, I think you should go and find him. Please."

"Hermione," the Slytherin began, taking another step closer, if he would have pushed, Draco could have been in the room with the witch. "You need to tell me what's wrong and you need to tell me now."

"I- I can't," she stuttered, vision faltering again. "Just go. You can't be here right now."

The door slammed in Draco's face, nearly taking his nose along with it. There was an unsteady waltz to his step as the blond made way for the Great Hall in the same eerie silence that he was graced with this morning.

He began to speed at a near jogging pace to his destination, never looking at anything other than what was ahead of him.

Unfortunately, what followed hadn't been behind him.

Stepping out of a darkened corridor came Harry Potter, clad in Gryffindor attire sporting his signature scar and a smirk unlike himself.

"Draco," the familiar voice purred. "It's been far too long, don't you think?"

"What do you want?"

"Now, we don't have to be hostile. We're beyond that. I just want to talk."

Draco's body tensed as his stance hardened. "What could you possibly have to say to me?" His voice had grown in strength since their last encounter.

"Hermione seems to be worried this morning, doesn't she?"

The Slytherin's breathing stilled. "What did you do to her?"

Voldemort's laugh echoed through Harry's vocals. "The mudblood's quite fine, Love. However, the Weasley boy may not be as fortunate if you're unable to cooperate."

"You act as if Ronald's well-being concerns me. You've taken away the only person that could have been a bargaining chip."

"Ah, but I don't believe I have. Draco, where is the first year you've been so keen to befriend? Where's Davis?"

Draco's stomach began to drop and his face fell just as far. "What do you mean?"

"My sincerest apologies. You probably haven't a clue as to who I'm speaking of." Voldemort smiled, tainting Harry's face with bitter malice. "Do you know where Harry's gone?"

././.\.\.

Harry sat in silence at the edge of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He watched as his previous enemies spoke amongst each other and he noticed from across the way, friends of Davis' that seemed rather unnerved by his presence. Perhaps they were more perceptive than others, or perhaps they had grown a bit angry with Davis for his absence.

Scanning the rest of the Gryffindor table, Harry noticed a number of empty seats. His former body did not sit in its usual place and neither of his friends seemed to be at breakfast. Hermione was notorious for missing meals, studying or something of the sort. Ron, however, would take his own life before forgetting a full buffet.

The thought of Ron taking his own life sat uneasily in the pit of Harry's stomach. He hadn't thought that the red haired Gryffindor would ever consider taking that way out. Hermione had assured him it wouldn't have truly worked, but what if it had? Another life would have been thrown away without just cause. Harry hadn't considered that his absence would also breed destruction. He had really only considered that life would be easier without him. No threats of death, no causes for pain. Hermione and Ron could live and lead normal, happy lives.

That was just it though, without Harry, neither Ron nor Hermione could live a life. After spending most of theirs in the midst of something so tragic and heartbreaking, it seemed impossible to go back to anything else. Harry was a part of their reality- a permanent resident in their hearts.

Still, this epiphany didn't serve as clarity for the new Slytherin's confusion. Where had they run off? And more importantly, where had Voldemort gone? Harry wasn't certain of the cretin's eating habits and couldn't tell if he ate at all.

Did you need to eat when you were an unwelcomed guest in someone else's body?

Guest may have been too kind a word.

Harry stood and walked away from his unfinished breakfast, leading himself back to Hermione's dorms. He wondered to himself what he hoped to find in the dining hall. Perhaps he wanted to really see himself again, see how much he'd grown and changed. It couldn't have been much in the recent months, but something had to have been different.

He would know, after all.

The entirety of the castle was still well into breakfast and unknowing of this first year and his true identity.

About halfway through his journey to Hermione, a pain began to shoot like lightning through Harry's forehead, where his scar would have been. He'd learned to ignore the pain in the past, but the few months without the pain had desensitized him and he needed to pause against the nearest wall to breathe through the sting.

_It'll pass_, he thought_, it's just been a while._

But, it wasn't passing, if anything, it was intensifying to the point of crippling pain. If he could make it to Hermione, maybe she would know what to do, what was wrong.

So, he trudged, holding his face as though it would fall off and pounded on the door of the witch's room.

"Hermione, open up now! Please, for Merlin's sake, open the door."

Harry hadn't realized he was sobbing until the Head Girl pulled him into the confines of her room and positioned him against the foot of her bed.

"Harry, you need to listen to me and you need to listen to me now."

Despite the head trauma, Harry attempted listening.

"Voldemort has Ron and Draco. I'll apologize now about Draco, I led him to Voldemort. However, that was only to keep you safe, which has become a priority over the years. You know this. Anyway, you need to kill him and you need to do this sooner than later."

Harry didn't answer; the situation was taking a lifetime to process.

"Harry! For the sake of sanity, why aren't you planning?" Hermione looked as if she was about to rip her hair from her scalp.

"My face is going to fall off," Harry moaned, "And I don't know where they are!"

"So, find them! You're still connected with Voldemort; why else would you be in so much pain? Think with him, Harry. Embrace the pain and follow it." Hermione hoisted Davis' body from the floor and poked his chest harshly. "Finish what you started. Kill him and save the day. For old time's sake."

Harry straightened his posture and pushed the thought of pain into the back of his head, willing himself to trace the feeling to its source and belted for the door, his instinct guiding him down staircases and into the dungeons of the Slytherins.

/./.\.\

Draco could only remember a flash of light and a moment of consciousness before awakening in the darkness of a chilled area that he was incredibly familiar with.

"Malfoy?" someone croaked in a hushed whisper near himself. "You awake?"

Immediately, Draco recognized the sound to be coming from Ronald. "I am now. Are you alright, Weasley?"

"I've been better," the red-haired boy joked, the sound of chains hitting the floor disturbing his attempted chuckle. It was then that Draco noticed the chains decorating his own wrists and ankles. "I wondered why you never were around anymore, thought you and Harry just broke it off. We're all allowed to be wrong, I guess."

"I'd say 'I told you so,' but I never really told you, so I guess the saying doesn't apply."

"Any thoughts as to why we're here?"

Draco shrugged and then remembered that complete darkness probably didn't answer Ronald's question. "I'm assuming we're bait."

"Bait for what?"

"Bait for Mister Harry Potter," Voldemort answered, his smirk evident in his voice. "I'm expecting him any moment. I'm sure you've heard the call, young Draco."

The dull throbbing hadn't occurred to Draco in his arm. He'd practiced covering it up for nearly a year now.

"Can hardly feel it anymore, but I'll take your word for it."

"Always so strong. So dedicated to the façade. Too bad you were absolutely horrid as a Death Eater. A true disgrace to be sure. Your father, the coward, ran away before coming to terms with your failure." Voldemort stilled his speech, "How does it feel, Draco? Knowing that everything you've ever attempted has ended in failure?"

"Contradictory words from a man who has been beaten by the same infant for the last seventeen years. Even worse, you still haven't won. How must that feel?"

"Pity you've wasted that spark on halfbloods. You could have been something feared if you served beneath me."

Draco laughed, the noise bouncing against the walls of the dungeons. "I'd serve shit before I served under you."

"What foul words coming from such a pretty mouth," Voldemort teased, stepping directly in front of Draco and gripping his jaw in a near bruising strength that belonged to someone much younger than he. "He'll die, Draco. And I'll have you watch. How many times will that make it, Draco? The number of times you've watched Harry die? I'm sure you've lost count of the nightmares. But, this one will be more realistic; I can promise you that." Nails dug into the skin of the blond's jaw and if he could, he would have spat in his oppressor's face. However, his mouth could hardly move and he resorted to breathing heavily through his nose and not responding to Voldemort's instigation. He wouldn't have the monster getting under his skin if he could help it.

"What makes you so confident that you won't be the one on your back?"

"Harry wouldn't kill himself."

"He'd do anything for someone he loves," Ronald chimed. He must have been here longer than Draco considering the lack of power in his voice. "You wouldn't understand what that's like. To die for someone you love."

"Coming from the pawn only used to weaken that Mudblood."

"You should consider a new insult, a word loses meaning after it's been used enough."

Voldemort smiled without turning his body to face the intrusion, even as the lights began to illuminate the room to reveal a first year Slytherin, You Know Who stayed in place. The boy's smile was just as wide as the villan's.

"Harry," Voldemort greeted, releasing Draco from his grip, "It's been far too long."

"According to our usual routine, we're ahead of schedule. You usually wait around a year before trying to kill my friends in some sad attempt to kill me."

"I would hate to disappoint you, Harry." More teeth were uncovered as Voldemort's grin turned to a snarl. "Crucio!" he screamed, directing his wand at Draco and watching in sickening pleasure as the blond's body writhed on the floor, his screech piercing. "I'm sorry to change our schedules on such short notice."

Harry didn't move from his position as he watched the pain ripple and sear through every inch of Draco's skin.

"You're controlling how far this goes, Harry," Voldemort sneered, cackling as he intensified the strength of his curse.

"Don't fucking listen to him, Harry. It-," Draco choked, feeling blood rise to his throat through the screaming, "It doesn't matter what happens to me. Finish him!" Suddenly, the spell vanished.

"I promised I'd let you watch me kill him, didn't I, Draco? And I'm nothing if not loyal to my word. It wouldn't do any good if I killed you before you had the opportunity to watch, would it?"

Draco couldn't contain himself then, he spat at Voldemort, the bloody liquid smacking the wizard in the center of his face. No sooner did he do that before two curses were uttered.

In pride, Voldemort selected another Cruciatus curse for Draco, the pain flaring at an alarming rate due to the recent attack.

And Harry, in pure desperation, flung the killing curse at the monster's back.

A light flared as the spell imbedded itself within Harry's former body. After moments, that body collapsed and a shadowy figure exited the lifeless form, disappearing from view.

"Mate?" Ronald finally uttered, transfixed on the scenes displayed.

Harry couldn't respond. He too fell from standing to his knees and collided face first with the ground beneath him.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Behind His Eyes

_Chapter Nineteen: The Life Behind His Eyes_

I would have to say that the longest walk I'd ever taken happened on the morning prelude to my meeting with Voldemort. Even the walk to the front door felt as thought a marathon was put in its place.

Holding the knob of the door so excessively may have accounted slightly for the extended period of time. But, that's anyone's say really.

I looked back to my new home as the rush of morning air greeted me from the doorframe. I may not have lived there long, but my family lived here and I had heard somewhere that home was where your heart was. So, maybe if I left it here in the safety of my family, I could always be home.

What an extraordinary thought.

Hermione would know where I'd run off. Draco would confide in her if she couldn't deduce the location herself. I doubted that, though. She was far too smart for her own good to be absolutely certain. If I didn't return, I would miss her terribly. She was the kind of sister I'd always wanted. Kicking my arse when I needed it most and holding me together when everything seemed to be going wrong.

That's happened a lot lately.

Ron would take care of her, though. I could always rely on him for being stubborn enough to force the one's he loved into whatever was best for them. He loved me enough to get me into unnecessary trouble, so that must really capture our importance to the other.

In all seriousness though, Ron was my best friend, the kind of man I would want to be. Brave, dedicated and honest to a fault.

I hoped he knew how much he meant to me.

My mind drifted to Draco, then. I'd spent the entire evening watching him sleep, truly appreciating him. They way his eyes would flutter quickly as if caught in a dream, and only burrowing deeper into my side would sedate him into a peaceful smile that stretched to his toes. His blond hair ticking my chest and chin- so soft and light. But, that made perfect sense. Draco was always soft; he simply needed time to prove it.

Inviting this so-called Death Eater to the Light had never upset my nerves. Draco's always been in my magical life. Challenging me and forcing me to limits I hadn't known existed. He changed me for the better, toughened me in my childhood and softened me in the recent past. Watching him use that potential that I'd been secretly jealous of for all of this time had humbled me. I knew, even without wanting it directly, that I was changing him as well. We were growing together.

I meant, without a shadow of a doubt, what I had said the night previous to this.

I loved him. More than likely, I loved him for longer than only a day ago. However, it's hard to know what's real and what to caution against today. It wasn't fair for me to love Draco back. He deserved someone to live with him and love with him until he was ready to leave. I'll be long gone before his time comes. He's too stubborn to settle for less than what he wants.

I hope that he sees what he wants is temporary and that those wounds will heal over time. They always seem to.

There are times like these when I wish above all things that I didn't have someone loving me in a way I never actually wished for. I know that I can't promise my presence. I would never wish for anyone to make the mistake of loving me.

They can only get hurt.

It was selfish of me to let myself have Draco. But, for some uncharacteristic reason, I couldn't bring myself to care. I was happy, truly happy. We fought; of course we did. We hardly ever agreed on anything other than the date- something set in stone.

I wouldn't have had it any other way.

I know the cliché in the statement: he isn't like the others. Draco surprised me. He was always so aware of himself as if consciously trying not to fall too hard. He never openly displayed his feelings and I could honestly worry if he didn't constantly wait for private moments to give me a quick kiss to the temple before running off to wherever he needed to be. Or, when we would eat with the house and he would take my hand in the midst of his conversation, always practicing the same soothing circle on the bottom of my thumb. Draco didn't want people to see him so vulnerable. He hadn't wanted anyone to know the extent of his feelings.

Knowing _that_ was a right that only I had.

If possible, he was more reserved in private. He was always so careful- possibly thinking that I may slip away if he didn't act accordingly. When he realized I wasn't disappearing to anywhere, he would warm up and become a completely different man. He never hesitated in being genuinely honest with me. If he feared for me, he said it. If he wanted to assure me that he loved me, he did.

Words weren't necessary for that idea to make its way to me.

The way he kissed my scar on a regular basis frightened me the most. He was acknowledging my past without fearing it. The act was almost a challenge, something he could do to silently promise I could do absolutely nothing to scare him away.

Even in its unnerving nature, the feeling blanketed me with a warmth I hadn't known outside of friendship.

I shook my head, feeling silly for smiling today. Draco did that to me though, even if he was the one to warn me about the heart I seemed to wear so far out on my sleeve.

Closing the door behind me, I took one final look at this dreary old building and felt the corners of my mouth tug upward.

An unfamiliar hope sunk into my skin as I apparated to the forbidden forest. A dream had told me that this was where it would all end. Either way, Harry Potter wouldn't survive this war. Not the one that everyone knows and is seemingly counting on.

He won't live through whatever happens today, no matter the outcome.

That wasn't a suicidal threat, I just never wanted to be this Harry Potter and there's far too much pressure for my liking. I can do with simple for a while. Move out to a little place where not a soul knows my name and even fewer people want to know.

The sky was as dark as to be expected on such a dramatic day. No doubt a spell to add to the moment for Voldemort. He always did like a scene. Something to be written about in later histories.

I waited in silence, the anxiety I assumed I would experience never showing its face. Not that I welcomed it, it was just an expected guest- like a cousin you need to see once a year to prove you still 'care.'

Even as a figure began to move towards me… my heart rate remained the same.

"The great Harry Potter. A pleasure to see you again," the dark wizard hissed with a smile.

"The pleasure's mine," I returned. "And right on schedule. You're nothing if not punctual."

"I know how busy you are." He'd never looked more ugly. I'm not sure which hurt worse, looking at him or the pain in my head from being so close to the source.

At the moment, his physical appearance trumped.

I hadn't dueled very often. And, if my memory perceived me, the last duel was controlled by the very thing in front of me.

"If I remember correctly, we bow to begin?"

His teeth were sharp as his grin widened. "Very good, Harry. Very very good indeed." He bowed as I bowed and we took a moment to rate the other- glance over our challenge.

Of course he was more experienced, more evil, more deranged, and more willing to do just about anything to finally get what he's wanted for all of this time. But, they say that I have something he doesn't.

I'll be glad to enlighten everyone when I find out what exactly that is.

There was only one curse needed for this battle. All of this would be is a battle of speed and deflection.

Who could outlive the other?

From what seemed to be miles away, I could hear familiar whimpers and muffled screams. Of course, I wasn't sure if these were old memories dredged up from Voldemort's repertoire or if they were happening at that very moment. Still, I was caught off guard long enough to be hit with a minor curse.

"Come now, Harry. I won't fight you if you won't fight properly. It's rude to ignore."

Faced down in the dirt beneath me, I heard the scream intensify. It was as if with every move Voldemort made, the screams would come closer and become more audible.

It almost sounded like my name.

Wiping what little dirt I could from my vision, I threw a curse back, one that Hermione had begun to practice with me. Of course, Voldemort had the advantage. I could hardly see.

"Sectumsempra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Each curse was uttered at the same time. Each curse struck its target.

I could feel myself falling, however, I was physically falling faster than mentally.

This couldn't be what death was like. I'd seen my Godfather pass, he'd completely disappeared. I wasn't going anywhere. I could see myself still lying on the ground.

_I could see myself…_

Then, I saw myself sit up from its limp form, standing and turning, smirking at something in the near distance.

Glancing ahead, I caught sight of what my body was seeing.

Draco. Crumpled and whimpering on the floor of the forest. The git had followed me here. He'd come along- probably feigned slumber all night.

"Draco," I heard my voice call. I tried to call back, but I couldn't make a sound of my own. There was nothing to create a sound. "Draco, get up."

"Harry?" he nearly choked, still too weak to stand. His arm must have been in brutal pain with the way he clutched it. "Harry, you're alive?"

I watched my head shake in answer, the smile growing ever wider.

Draco, far quicker than I would have, understood immediately. He closed his eyes tightly and managed to scramble from the ground.

"What have you done to him?" he hissed through a tightened jaw.

"This is what I am, Draco. What I've always been. It wasn't as if I was hiding. No one was really looking here." His glare was so threatening, and by the looks of it, Draco felt the fear that I so strongly sensed. "Of course, you wouldn't tell a soul what you've seen. You'll let the public believe in their hero."

"Why would I do that?" Draco crossed his arms over his chest, the pain only slightly evident. That was my Draco. Ever haughty, ever the one to instigate even the most terrifying murderer.

"Because I'll destroy all of him. Down to his last fiber."

With that said, Voldemort summoned his own wand, leaving mine beneath him and sliced through my hand- urging Draco to do the same.

"I won't make you this deal a second time. Do as I say."

It was then that I began to feel a pull in three different directions. Two that were strong- one of which led to my own body that was currently occupied and one that led upwards. Deciding not to follow either, I went towards the weakest and watched Draco drift farther away.

I suppose souls travel faster than humans because it wasn't long before I'd come to my destination.

I faced the window of a small room within a town that I hadn't known existed. A boy, similar to me in form from my first year, sat at a desk. He was looking listlessly at a blank page. I wasn't certain if he was writing or drawing, but he certainly wasn't sure either.

I let his pull carry me within and in an instant I was imbedded into the boy.

At the moment, I had complete control of this form and could feel it slipping away quickly. Without thinking, I tried wandlessly to call my wand back to me and my acceptance letter to Hogwarts.

It was obvious that this boy had no magic of his own and if I wanted to do anything to possibly find myself, I would need to be at Hogwarts where my body was- where Voldemort still lived. Where Draco would still live.

I thanked Hermione for forcing me to work on wandless magic as both necessary items appeared. Quickly, as I felt another jolt of receding power, I wrote at the corner of the old parchment, "Remember me."

Then, all was lost to the back of this boy's mind.

././.\.\.

It would be quite some time before I could glimpse the real world. Almost too much energy was required to see through eyes that weren't mine.

His name was Davis. I'd learned this through his memories. He was an orphan as well, living with relatives. A similar life to my own. His stories weren't completely whole. They lacked a personal emotion. It was as if he wasn't living his own life, only watching from the sidelines.

My first sight through his eyes surprised me.

I had seen Draco holding onto himself in front of a fire. He was so tired and frail. Like one good gust of wind could knock him over and he wouldn't bother to get back up.

I'd met his friend Jessica as well. She reminded me of Hermione almost too much. But, as soon as Davis had lost sight of Draco, I had lost sight as well.

This continued to happen. If Draco was around Davis, I could see. If Davis ever left, I was placed back in the dark. Of course, I didn't mind being able to see Draco of all people. That was until Davis began to like seeing Draco as well. I assumed that he only felt so strongly for _my_ Draco because I was being held captive inside of him. But, I could feel Davis as well.

It wasn't only me that was making him feel.

Davis began falling for Draco after the second he'd fallen through the portrait. I can't blame him. Davis cared and Draco was so broken. The eleven-year-old boy came alive again after meeting my Ice Prince. There may not have been much of a soul when I'd entered him, but he was relating to our story and he grew. Less and less room was made for me and I could feel myself slipping under with no one to save me.

And after I'd felt Davis, on his own accord, kiss my Draco…

Well, that 'my' faded.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I were pushed out of Davis. This was his life after all. And if Draco could be happy without me, then, what was the point in attempting to stay?

I'd decided that I would wait to disappear before hearing someone calling for me- like the faint sound in the woods. This time, though, there was more worry than pain.

The voice hadn't changed.

Like the first time I'd had control of Davis' body, the sensations were strange. Carrying a different weight and seeing through completely different eyes was such an experience.

Touching Draco's face with a foreign hand was no different though.

His face was still so smooth and flawless and aside from a few new worry lines, he was perfect.

Exactly how I'd left him.

Hermione, as I should have guessed she would, solved everything and even made sense of why any of this had happened. Apparently our curses mingled and ripped our souls from our bodies. I lucked out, as it usually goes, because my body should have died.

Instead, Voldemort killed himself within me.

With his body beyond repair, he was quicker to a similar body.

Mine.

The last I remember, I'd flung the killing curse towards myself.

././.\.\.

"Draco, honestly dear, get some rest. I promise he won't be moved anywhere."

"I'm not leaving until he leaves. This needs to work. How's Davis?" Draco asked, still holding onto Harry's hand. It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since he'd felt the actual weight of the Savior's hand.

"He's fine. He'd like to see you. Could you spare even a moment?"

"I'll spare all of the moments he needs when Harry comes back."

The exhausted body beside the blond was breathing. It was simply a question as to who was doing the breathing.

Draco couldn't have felt a fear as strong as this. Here, in his hands, was the man he thought he would never see again in his true form. In his unconscious state, Draco could pretend that Harry was only sleeping- that this was just another one of the countless evenings he'd spent studying the Hero's most promising features.

"Wake up, Love," Draco whispered, his throat clenching as tears threatened to fall. "Please, Harry. Please. You can't leave me like this. Not when you never asked me if it was okay. You promised you'd love me no matter what and that's a load of shit. I'm allowed to have standards and I need to _show_ you how much I love you. That doesn't work if you don't exist." Draco brought Harry's immobile hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle, resting his lips against the last and shutting his eyes tightly.

"How am I supposed to rest if you keep talking?" Harry weezed, cringing with the effort it took to speak.

"Harry?"

"Please, Draco. My head hurts something wicked." Even in near death, Harry couldn't control the teasing in his voice.

"You little prick!" Draco cried before launching himself atop of the yelping Gryffindor. "I," kiss, "thought," kiss, "I would," kiss, "never see you again," the Slytherin managed between sobs and tear-flavored kisses. "If you begin to complain about your ribs hurting, I'll finish you off myself."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around a trembling Draco as he buried his face into the blond's neck, inhaling deeply. "Gods, you always smell so good."

"You're always so eloquent."

"You're always a prat."

Draco smiled then, still sitting on top of Harry, but pulling back to look at his entire first half. "I've missed you. So much."

The raven-haired man smiled shyly in return. "I love you."

"I love you too, Harry. Always. No matter how much shit you put me through."

"Prove it." Draco was lost for a fraction of a second before Harry had lifted his lower regions into the blond's.

"You just wake up out of a near week of a coma and you want to shag?" It was Draco's turn to laugh as he pet the unruly mop of hair that he could never grow tired of fingering through. "Only you, Love. Only you."

"You'll make it up to me when I'm better?"

The Slytherin leaned forward and pressed his lips fully against the Gryffindor's. In attempts to keep the kiss as chaste as possible, Draco didn't adhere to any of Harry's pleas to enter his mouth. He simply smiled and pulled away.

"I'll make it up to you for a lifetime if you wish."

"I might like that."

With a rather loud bang, a door was opened to a rather excited witch and red-headed wizard. If Draco hadn't already claimed Harry's lap, the two would have without doubt taken the place.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, nearly knocking Draco to the floor in her relief. "If you _ever_ make me worry like that again, I'll kill you."

"She's not kidding, mate," Ron grinned, not too keen on physical appreciation. "Welcome back, Harry. Missed you."

"Likewise, Ron."

"You, Draco," Hermione began, drawing the blond off of Harry and onto the floor. "You're coming to speak with Davis. You promised."

"That I did," Draco sighed, an arm taking hold of his.

"I just need a second with him, Hermione. I promise he'll be over with Davis in a minute."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and huffed. "One minute."

Alone again, Draco grinned. "We are not having it out in under a minute, Potter."

"Davis loves you, Draco," Harry suddenly uttered. "Please be gentle with whatever you say to him. It wasn't only me feeling for you."

"I will," Draco promised with a kiss and forced himself away from the helpless man in front of him.

Davis was only a room away, but the wait at the door took much longer than the actual journey.

Knocking lightly, Draco gathered his courage and stepped inside.

"Could you have taken longer?"

"My apologies, I was tied up."

Davis' face fell slightly. "Harry is awake, right?"

Draco nodded, noticing how Davis wasn't as thrilled about the news.

"Good. It all worked out then." The words weren't at all sincere.

Draco paced to the edge of the younger Slytherin's bed, sitting close enough for the boy to dip in his bed a bit.

"Davis, I don't know how I can thank you for what you've done for him. He wouldn't have lived without you. He couldn't have killed Voldemort if it wasn't for you. I would have died without him, so I would have died without you." Draco paused seeing that Davis wouldn't look at him. He gripped the smaller chin in his hand and forced Davis to focus. "Do you understand how selfless that all is? Do you understand that you saved our world?"

"Do you understand that I saved a world I don't belong to? I saved a man that belongs in the world I'll never actually be a part of. He'll never want a part of me. He has everything he needs. Do you understand what that's like?"

"You know I do."

The smaller form shrugged. "I suppose you do."

"Believe me. I wouldn't have gotten through this without you. Believe me when I say that you've inadvertently become one of the most important people in my life because of what you've done." Draco took hold of Davis' hand and sighed. "I can't give you what you want. But, I can promise you that out there, there are people that will love you the way you want to be loved. All I can do is love you as someone that saved me- respect you as someone that can be compared to Harry in selflessness. I'm sorry that I can't give you more."

"Did it hurt like this when you thought Harry was with Ginny?"

"It hurt worse. You see, I hated Ginny. I doubt you hate Harry."

"I think it makes me feel worse," the brunette reflected. "It's impossible to hate him."

"Welcome to my nightmare."

Davis laughed in a tiny snicker, but there was true humor behind it.

"You'll be alright?" Draco asked seriously, gripping the hand in his tighter.

"I'll be fine." Davis' smile was sadly reassuring. "I'm glad you have Harry. He makes you happy. One day, I'll make someone that happy. And I hope they appreciate me as much as you appreciate him."

"They will," Draco promised, squeezing one last time on the small hand within his own before making leave for the door and closing it behind him.

The blond walked back to Harry's room and waited for the door to click behind him before sliding into the bed with the recovering Man-Who-Lived. It was like coming home.

"You're sure, right?" Harry asked, kissing the top of Draco's head, which was conveniently placed beneath his chin. "You're sure this is what you want? I'm who you want?"

"There isn't anyone I'd want more. I just wish that there was something I could do for Davis."

"You helped him live again, Draco. When he realizes that, he'll realize that he was simply returning the favor by saving me."

The Slytherin snuggled deeper into Harry's side and breathed. "One day, you'll stop being so right about things and I'll be there to tell you so."

"I hope you'll be there for everything."

"I should be saying that to you. You're the one with Death chasing you nearly every second of every day."

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled. "Says the boy that was recently tied to a wall." Luckily for Draco, he was close enough to Harry's rib cage to do some minimal damage. "Would you have it any other way?"

"Not on your life, Potter."

With that argument settled, Draco pressed a warm kiss to Harry's neck and drifted into the most peaceful sleep he could remember.


	21. Epilogue: Some Other Beginning's End

Everybody's Fool

_Epilogue: Some Other Beginning's End_

Harry had come out to the public not long after the disappearance of Voldemort. He'd told the story from beginning to end- the correct way- the way it was meant to be told.

With Draco.

As an ex-Death Eater, the Slytherin was not exactly respected among the Wizarding world. However, with the true Harry behind him, Draco could tell the truth without a second of doubt.

And, the world believed it.

They believed Harry's every thought. This never ceased to amaze Draco- the pull that Harry had on the others around him. He literally told the entire world that his body was taken over by a demented and power-hungry Dark Lord and he was previously living within an eleven-year-old like a parasite and people believed him. Not only that, they berated themselves for falling for Voldemort's tricks again.

What puzzled Draco even further was the more intense amount of modesty Harry claimed. None of the Dark Lord's fall was his doing through those emerald eyes. Davis had protected him and Draco had found him. It was almost as if they, as a team, defeated Voldemort and not him. Harry held the wand and the Slytherins did the rest.

The public praised every inch of the Savior for his work. Even Rita Skeeter had nothing to top the story with. She began writing a best selling novel within a week of the story's release. Hermione actually found it to be nearly entertaining- something no one thought possible with her incredible hatred for the woman.

It would be a month or so before Harry was well enough function on his own again. Apparently switching bodies and nearly killing your own body within a few months of each other was not necessarily something that a person was ready for. It needed rest after such feats.

It was the longest month of Harry's life. He couldn't eat on his own, lest he choke to death. He couldn't use the bathroom on his own, bathe on his own, even sleep without supervision. Granted, Draco took care of quite a bit of the babysitting, but that irked Harry to no end.

He couldn't do a damn thing in his state!

Well, he wasn't _supposed_ to do a damn thing. Draco made sure he kept that promise. That didn't keep the Slytherin from being an utter tease though, tempting Harry with chaste pecks and longer than necessary touches to decide on any discomfort.

_That bloody smile could get him away with murder_, Harry thought, having to shake himself again after Draco helped finish lunch. The blond hardly ever recognized what he was doing to Harry- and the Gryffindor knew that. Draco innocently wanted to help Harry in any possible way and he was simply angry with himself for being so impatient to recover.

To distract himself from his dilemma of utter boredom, he spoke to Davis, getting to know him as a person and not an involuntary host.

He'd learned that Davis had possessed magical abilities before Harry had come along. He would have come into his magic with or without the Hero, but having such a strong amount of power present definitely sped the process up a bit.

Some of Harry stayed within Davis; memories, magic. Some of Harry's most personal secrets dwelled within the now twelve-year-old. The boy would take each word to his grave, though. Of that, Harry was certain.

Davis was beginning to love Draco less and less romantically. Seeing Harry so enamored seemed to help significantly with the younger boy's decision to look elsewhere.

And he _was_ finding something.

Harry, in his newly discovered need to observe, saw an interest spark within Davis towards Ginny. He even seemed to find humor in her interest. It only made sense that she would begin to see someone worth loving in Davis. Davis could have been and _had_ been Harry in a recent life.

The two were seen nearly everywhere together and even visited Harry as a couple. Davis blushed as a boy would and Ginny seemed genuinely smitten. The Slytherin had no fame to enthrall her. He was simply Davis. Nothing more and nothing less. Ginny needed that. She needed someone that hadn't known her inside and out. She needed a person that hadn't seen as much as Harry, someone that could grow with her and didn't need to wait for her to play catch-up.

Harry was happy for each of them, happy in general, really.

He lived, again. And if he could get out of this godforsaken bed, he would take each moment with as much force as a freight train.

Two months passed before Harry was well enough to leave his hospital bed for good.

Signing his papers and winking at Madame Pomfrey on his way out of the infirmary, he made a hurried dash for the Great Hall- knowing full well that dinner was being served and that an uproar hadn't been caused by Harry Potter in quite some time.

So, without further ado, The Savior of the Wizarding World, Man- Who- Won and currently life-desensitized Harry Potter marched into an extremely noisy hall only to have every conversation drop to mere whispers in his presence.

"Bloody 'el 'Arry!" Ron nearly shouted, choking on the obscene amounts of food shoved into his mouth. The entire room moved to stand and attack Harry with questions and congratulations.

Three people remained seated.

Hermione sat and tried to revive Ron from his choking fits and Draco, with a reserved grin plastered to his face, looked to his food and finally up at the emerald eyes of the man he'd been tending to for the past couple of months.

Harry mouthed, 'Tonight. Your rooms,' in Draco's direction and the blond could hardly control himself from destroying the masses that surrounded what he'd been waiting ever so patiently for.

"Draco, mind giving me a hand? I think Ron may die if this isn't dislodged from his throat."

The Slytherin sighed and hit the back of the redhead a few times before his face turned from blue to his sickly pale.

"Thanks, Malfoy. Could've died, you know."

"Try chewing your food. It's done wonders for me."

If asked a year ago, Draco would have never considered being civil with Ron or any of his ever growing family.

Times can change as it turns out.

The evening, for Draco, was spent in near seclusion. He didn't bother to burst through Harry's fans. For one, he had absolutely no interest in having drool on his person or tears from the more hysterical stalkers. He also hadn't wanted to physically harm anyone that wanted to be in closer contact with Harry. They were excited and beyond happy to see him again- alive and well. And the blond, being of nearly sound mind, understood that homage needed paying.

So, he waited. He waited until his eyes began to fall on their own accord throughout the night, leaving the festivities that seemed to sprout from out of absolute nothingness. It didn't pain him to run off. He knew that Harry did this for his public, his nearly cult-like following that would now in his victory follow him to the edge of the abyss and never turn back.

They were a bit late in realizing that was the correct path after all.

Draco drudged to his room, his strength nearly absent after falling onto his own bed- shedding his school robes and trousers. Sleeping alongside Harry in the hospital wing in chairs and the cramped cot itself with the Gryffindor had done a number on his back and he was more than happy to have a full night's slumber on a mattress he knew all too well.

It hadn't taken longer than a moment before the backs of Draco's pale eyelids became his newest vision.

However, that small feeling of peace could not have extended over two hours time before something wet began to tickle the blond's ear.

"Fifteen minutes, I swear," Draco muttered into his mattress- the sound mingling with a deeper chuckle that never failed to force his own face into a smile.

"I'm not sure who's waking you up like this," Harry whispered casually into the drowsy man's ear, "But, I can assure you that he or she won't be permitted to do so again- unless they have no desires to see another year, then- by all means."

In such close proximity, Draco could feel the rumbles in Harry's chest vibrate through his back, instantly waking him. Still, though, the Slytherin couldn't pass up on a chance to strain the Gryffindor's nerves.

"I don't think I'm in the mood, Potter. Can't you see I'm sleeping? You've lost your glasses, haven't you? _Or_, did one of your doting fans finally take them to charm your naïve arse into some sort of enslaved romance?"

Jumping away from the bed, Harry honestly looked shocked at Draco's statement.

"Draco," the raven-haired man started in a huff, "you know I don't care for all of that."

The blond made move to roll onto his back and place his hands behind his head, a smirk gracing his lips. "And _you_ know I _do_ seem to care for that little blush you seem to succumb to when you're in distress. Quite an adorable shade of red."

"You're an outright git- you know that?" Harry proclaimed, crawling back over Draco and positioning himself about an inch above his instigator. "And I believe you know quite well who could charm this naïve arse into some enslaved romance."

"Now, now, Potter- you're free to go if you think these shackles are much too tight."

"If you don't stop with the surname, Draco, so help me Merlin!"

A blond eyebrow shot upward in challenge. "Make me, Boy Wonder."

Without further prompting, Draco found his mouth quite occupied- too occupied even to commit to a laugh at the other boy's incredible eagerness. He couldn't complain, though. It was utterly brilliant to handle Harry like a man instead of glass.

The months watching and waiting for health took their toll on Draco just as much as Harry- if not, more so. The Slytherin was simply better with self-control and subtlety. He'd mastered the art of emotional stability around Harry. Otherwise, he would have been a bumbling mess since the moment they'd met.

And he couldn't have that now, could he?

The excessive amount of rest did wonders for Harry's enthusiasm and possessiveness. Draco nearly forgot to breathe and upon remembrance, retracted into the bed and gulped in a breath he was sure could have filled an entire balloon in one go.

The loss of contact didn't deter Harry from his task, however. He simply moved lower, popping random buttons of Draco's shirt to reveal delicate skin by the inch. When a pale hand made reach for his tie, Harry slapped the offending appendage away- growling in a way that sent a chill directly to Draco's spine.

"Leave it on," the brunette whispered heavily, muttering something the blond could feel to be wandless magic. Harry pulled away just long enough to glance at his work and suppress a small chuckle. Draco immediately noted that his tie had changed to Gryffindor colors. "Something about you in my colors," he purred, resuming his work on the shirt before pealing it completely off of the heaving body beneath him.

"Self absorbed?" Draco asked before tearing Harry's clothing to shreds in his attempt to return the abuse. "Or is this meant to be some kind of personalized collar, Scar-head?"

"The latter, love."

All coherent thought was simply lost as Harry dipped back down to a now heaving chest and eventually southward to the dip of Draco's bellybutton. Biting back a groan was out of the question when that very same tongue removed itself.

"Dammit, Harry!" Draco almost screamed, a thin sheet of sweat coating his entire form.

"Got you to say it," Harry teased.

That was more than enough of those antics. There was no reason why Harry could still form Slytherin worthy plans when he could hardly manage a tongue-tied statement. He flipped their positions to have Harry beneath him and still grinning. His hair a ragged mess even before sex, his glasses askew, and his now uncovered chest that was as perfect and smooth as tanned marble.

Merlin's beard was he a vision.

"Ugh," Draco honestly wanted to shout his frustration at the sight.

"Something wrong?"

Harry tried concealing the slight confusion and self-consciousness in his voice, but failed against Draco's trained ears.

"You're too bloody perfect- it isn't fair. No wonder the Weaslette wanted me dead. I would have killed me too after losing you."

The emerald eyes of his counterpart danced with genuine amusement. "You do know she's seeing Davis, don't you?"

"Because he's you? What a surprise." Harry smacked him lightly. "You know it's true."

"I'm not perfect, Draco."

"I know you're not perfect," he agreed, pressing his lips quickly to the dip at the base of the Gryffindor's neck. "You're perfect for me."

"And you're utterly cheesy, but I love you for it."

"Tell anyone that I have an ounce of sentiment and I'll claw your eyes out."

"Who would believe me?"

It was Draco's turn to laugh then, the heat of his breath tickling the base of the darker man's throat as his tongue darted out to meet now perspiring skin, causing a twitch and chill to create goosebumps.

Of course, that wouldn't go unnoticed. "Scared, Potter?"

Harry reflected in the hilarity of the moment's déjà vu quality and answered appropriately.

"You wish. And not that I don't love this banter, but are you going to do-." That thought would have been completed with 'anything' if Draco's hand hadn't come to rest on one of Harry's most prized possessions. Instead, he grunted what he thought sounded like approval as his pants were removed instantly without his doing. "Wandless magic?"

"Can't have you outdoing me in everything."

The idea of the blond being able to match him in magical ability sent a new wave of attraction through Harry. He'd known the Slytherin to match his strength and far surpass him in mental intelligence, but magic was something he would have needed to practice and master- something that came to Harry as if from a dream. Draco worked to harness his potential and Harry's chest swelled with pride as he took hold of the paler boy's bottom and forced himself upward to pay attention to both growing problems at once.

Again, Harry found himself in a bliss he hadn't thought he was worthy of. Even after conquering the Darkest of Lords multiple times, he hadn't felt good enough. The task was appointed to him at birth. He would never have attempted the feat if the world hadn't expected and relied on him to do so. Harry wanted, no, needed normalcy. Thinking on it, though, would he be here now without everything that's happened to him? As much as he hated it, his name brought him to Draco.

But it wasn't a name that defined character- it's what you do with the name that creates an identity.

While deep in thought, Harry hardly realized that Draco had been preparing him, the slight discomfort only now beginning to show in the form of a heavy and held breath.

"Glad to see you're with us, Harry," Draco snickered while locating another sensitive spot behind Harry's ear before finding exactly what he was looking for with the crook of his finger. The brunette arched his back, forcing a deeper intrusion before the feeling of emptiness encompassed him.

That feeling was short-lived as Draco filled the man beneath him in one quick thrust- stopping immediately as Harry regained his breath. It'd been so long since either student had been intimate physically. Fortunately, Draco knew exactly what to do.

"I don't think," he began, choking on the sheer amount of control it was taking to hold his position. "I don't think that I've told you exactly how much I've missed you."

Harry breathed heavier in response.

"For quite some time, I wished for nightmares." Again, he paused to regain control. Begging his body not to move. "Almost each nightmare guaranteed your face. These dreams were implanted of course. But, I was still able to see you. Clear as day.

"I didn't dare look for you in _him._ He wasn't anything like you. The man behind that scar was a monster. And, you're not a monster, Harry. You're everything to me. With or without that bloody mark on your face, you're mine." Draco promised Harry with a forceful kiss, moaning in time with the Gryffindor as he began to move.

"Mine, too?" Harry whimpered- digging his nails deep enough to leave red marks for days on Draco's alabaster skin.

"All," kiss, "yours."

./.\.

"Draco! Are you home, Love?" Harry called from the doorway of their home on the outskirts of Italy. The former Gryffindor once confided in the former Slytherin that he wished to move away from it all, to let the name, 'Harry Potter,' die in peace.

"In the kitchen," the blond responded.

The past six years since graduating Hogwarts had decidedly happened in all but a blur. Harry and Draco had publically announced their relationship and their plans to leave the Wizarding World for a time immediately after graduation. Neither wizard received hard feelings for his decision and they had spent time roaming, learning culture and life, but most importantly, learning together.

A small boy tackled Harry's legs and collapsed to the floor upon impact. The brunette lifted him into his arms and studied his freckled features with a smile. He'd looked so much like Ron that it was almost absurd.

"Can't seem to sit still. I'll bet you drove Draco mad all day."

"He make me eat icky yuck!"

"For the last time, Hugo! You don't need to use 'icky' if you're going to use 'yuck.' It's unnecessary! One would suffice," Draco bellowed, his feet stampeding out of the kitchen.

"What are you feeding him, Draco?"

"I was making him Salmon Wellington! The child has deprived taste buds."

"Darling, you feed kids macaroni and cheese from the box or chicken nuggets." Through the laughter, Harry could hardly recognize the severe lack of amusement in the blond's features.

"Oh, you find him torturing me funny?"

Harry turned his attention to the boy in his arms. "Run out back and set up the rings. I'll be out to fly with you in a bit." The boy nearly flew out of the former Seeker's arms towards the backyard.

"It's not funny," the brunette tried and failed at not laughing. "Okay, Draco, it's a bit funny. You have to see that. He's a child after all."

"If he wasn't Hermione's, I would have said 'no' to baby sitting. You realize this, right?"

Harry nodded and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist. "You're so brilliant with him. Keeps me from worrying about when we have our own."

"Potter, I like having one that we can take back. Let's just leave it at that." The blond held the man's face with both hands and kissed his forehead soundly. "When is he leaving again?"

"Ginny will be here to collect him before the ceremony tonight. Davis is graduating and she'd like us to be there. He'd like us to be there as well."

"It still doesn't unnerve you that they are five years apart?"

Harry shrugged. "You love who you love."

"Are you at least going to attempt taming that mane of yours? I swear it grows back feistier after each try." He proved a fine example of this by running his fingers through the mountain of chaos that grew from Harry's scalp. "Quite a waste of time."

"Can't all be as pristine as you, Draco."

"At least you recognize that." Kissing him back chastely against the lips, Harry smiled and untangled himself before running towards the still opened back door. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To play with our substitute child before tonight. And you know my hair always looks best after a bit of wind's hit it."

Draco shook his head and sighed. He'd love to father a child with Harry. To be honest, he would just love anything that Harry loved. He was worried about his abilities as a father. His own father had never been much of a role model, but that's all he'd ever known of a significant male figure. Snape hated children and never had any of his own, so he couldn't be looked to either.

In all honesty, though, the thought of watching a child grow up to have Harry's shaggy hair and Draco's pointed nose excited him. Harry had done quite a bit of research with Hermione in hopes to find a way of possibly giving their genes to some kind of surrogate mother. They'd come to the conclusion that it was indeed very possible. Draco couldn't deny his fear. Fear of loving another so completely after it had taken such lengths to feel that way for Harry. Could he stretch his love? Was love truly something that could be considered infinite?

The blond man walked towards the window to the back yard and found another reason to love Harry when he tickled Hugo's ear with a long blade of grass, laughing when the young boy couldn't quite comprehend where the feeling had come from.

Perhaps love could be infinite, Draco decided.

With that thought comforting him, he reopened the door to his now crowded yard and immediately caught a child's snitch- charmed to slow down for beginners.

"Always the show off, Uncle Draco," Harry chastised. "At least you've impressed Hugo." The dark haired man pointed his chin towards the awestruck toddler.

"Good practice for our own, yeah?" Draco's face dipped to look at the ground. He wasn't embarrassed by his near readiness- simply not sure if he'd meant it yet.

Harry lifted the blond's chin to meet him at eye level.

"For our own? You're actually considering?"

"What can I say? I just can't get enough of you Potters. I think I may need another one of you prancing around."

The answering smile of the Gryffindor may have been the brightest Draco had ever seen.

If merely speaking of a child made Harry so sublimely happy, imagine what the pitter-patter of little feet would do?

Draco couldn't seem to wait as he made to kiss Harry for what seemed like the billionth time since their first.

There had been three Harry's in Draco's life. The first came to him in Madame Malkin's. A boy with too much courage and not enough sense. The second nearly killed him in pursuit, but earned his respect. The third fell in love with him and continued to fall.

Perhaps meeting Harry Potter, the father of his child, wouldn't be such a terrible fourth.

"I really do love you. You know that, right?"

"That's the only reason I am going through with this insane idea."

Harry rolled his eyes hugged Draco tight. "You have no idea how much this means to me," he whispered into the crook of the former Slytherin's neck. "You're going to be a wonderful dad. So, please stop worrying."

"How did you-."

"I'm afraid of that too. But, we'll be afraid together. And when he turns out to be perfect, we'll pretend as though we hadn't worried for a moment otherwise."

Knowing that Harry had acquired the same fears helped the pit in Draco's stomach shrink significantly. With his own personal hero at his side, Draco could be anything- even a father worth idolizing. A father that lived for his children and not through them. A father that he'd never had and Harry hadn't been able to know.

"You make good mummy," Hugo offered to Draco, tugging on his bottoms. "Mummy makes me eat icky yuck too."

Neither Harry nor Draco could control the fits of laughter that disturbed the otherwise peaceful moment. The Man Who Lived lifted the toddler into his arms between himself and his boyfriend.

"With that kind of blessing, I don't see how we can say 'no.'"

./.\.

The ceremony had been entirely familiar. Davis looked just as Draco expected, a young Harry. He was proud though, nearly as proud as Ginny.

"Congratulations, Davis," Draco managed finally after the reception had begun, presenting the newly graduated with a gift bag containing an ironic keepsake that both older men decided was fitting. Harry's journal. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Draco. Harry, it's wonderful to see you again," the nearly identical man offered his hand and both wizards shook. Catching up couldn't be done as an overly excited witch whisked the boy off to the dance floor.

"Shall we?" Draco asked, slipping his hand into Harry's. He took it without any hesitation as the two joined the crowd in a slow dance. "You know, I've been thinking."

"That's always a good practice."

"We probably shouldn't have a child if we're not married. What would people say?"

Harry chuckled lightly, resting his head against Draco's shoulder. "Since when did you care about what people thought?"

With the blond suddenly stilling, Harry stilled as well. His mouth immediately went dry as the former Slytherin fell to one knee. The music silenced and the crowd around them stood in anticipation of the moment.

"I suppose you didn't understand my subtle proposal," Draco observed after taking hold of Harry's left hand and squeezing it lightly. "Harry James Potter, you're the absolute biggest pain in my arse. I've given up my sanity in order to be with you. I've given up any hope of getting along without you a long time ago. I've decided that the least you can do for me is marry me. So, what do you say, Love? Care to spend the rest of our lives together?"

A white gold ring with emerald stones found its way onto Harry's finger in a perfect fit.

"Figures you'd pick Slytherin colors. And I have one condition." The intake of breath from the masses seemed rehearsed as they waited. Draco didn't seem to breathe at all. "You have to promise not to tease our baby when he ends up in Gryffindor like his father."

The blond shook his head in amazement as he stood to kiss his possible fiancé.

"Is that a yes, Potter?" He asked after pulling back before getting carried away in public.

"Considering how much you've given up, well, I suppose it's the least I can do."

Failing to recognize the large party that gathered around both famous war heroes quickly became impossible as cheers struck each wall and bounced around to fill the entire room with a frenzy of sound.

"Love you, Scarface."

"Love you too, Ferret," Harry promised, using his newly clad hand to squeeze Draco's in affirmation.

Their life would never be simple. They would forever be on opposite ends of the spectrum. But, they would always have a few things in common.

They would fight until death to remain together.

They would live forever for each other.

And they would love the other until their last breath.

Draco once believed that he would never know love.

Sometimes, as the story goes, a Malfoy can be wrong.

_El Fin._

_Thank you for reading._


	22. Just a NOTE

So, originally I wrote this under the pen name, GreyHope. I needed to delete everything, but still was in the process of editing this. The entire story took over a year to write (not the month that it seems)

_I may write Harry's COMPLETE point of view if anyone's interested in that._

Thank you so much to my new readers, and thank you again to the old… you stumbled through a year with me and that's heartwarming.

_Cheers!_

These are the original comments to Everybody's Fool before the delete, you took time to read, so I'll take time to recognize :)

./.\.

I'm reading this for the first time and I'm putting pieces. I just have to say that I just LOVE that Davis is Harry. I'm not sure HOW just yet, but Harry isn't Harry, Davis is Harry.

-Seeking Ion

THAT WAS SO FUCKING CUTE! At first i was kinda iffy about the story but it was written well (as opposed to some other stuff i've read) so i decided to continue on with it, and i have to say, it was incredibly satisfying. It has made my day, cuz honestly it was kinda crap but after reading this i feel all happy and fluffy inside! 3 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE continue to write more amazing Harry+Draco fics like this! The world needs more of them! Also, this is the first fic that i've read that has had any 1st person view that i've actually liked, cuz i really love 3rd person, so congrats on that. Bah, i'd be surprised if you read all of this review cuz it's so long! Sorry! But all in all, SO CUTE. Probably the best i've read in a while. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I had a fabulous time reading it! 3

-Lurker

it was awesome

awesome X1000000000

great update cant wait for the end

Great update. Made me a little sad tho :( but nonetheless amazing.

:D

-dadswell

Why have more people not shown their love for this story? IT WAS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AMAZING! The Davis/Voldemort plot twist, Draco's personality, I loved it!

-cajega

Absolutely loved this story. read it in one go. i have added to favorites.

-Darth Keyara

this was amazing. truly fantastic! im glad i found it when it was complete, too. i dont think i would have liked waiting for updates lol. Its different than anything else ive read and not predictable at all. And i usually hate new characters but Davis was perfect. So yes, i loved this. :D

-DrWooty

Brilliant! I can't begin to tell you how much I enjoyed this fanfic! I was of course super worried because your summery was kinda vague.. but I stuck it out. haha And I'm glad I did. :)

cheers

-Mortello

I devoured this fic over the past couple of hours, and it was quite a delectable eat...read...thing...

I suspected Davis was Harry a bit, but I totally never saw the fact that Voldemort had stolen Harry's body. For some crazy reason I thought Harry had 'died', his soul had moved on and been transferred to Davis, and his body was running around without a conscience.

I like your version better :P

Anyway, thanks for writing my dear!

Yours,

- Opera Goose

Cute story, I don't see how Davis could be in love with Draco though, he barely knew him. Great story though.

Wait, I thought Harry was alive?

Ginny is such a bitch.

I really don't see how their relationship is Davis' business but whatever. I'm enjoying this so far.

Ugh, Ginny, can't stand the tramp. I'm going to keep reading.

-Makeupholic

Yay! Congratulations! It was a great story to follow. Thank you so much for sharing!

Great Ending! I really liked the first person part by Harry. Thank you for sharing and staying at it for over a year :D.

So cool! I'm looking forward to the end, but I can't imagine it to be better than the whole concept of the story so far. It was a really interesting angle.

It's hard to feel sad for Harry's sacrifice, because there should be Davis left in the body. Well, that's certainly something I want to know :D. Thank you!

Definitely worth it :D. Thank you!

Hi. Just started today to tune in :D. At first I thought you go for a sappy Draco revelling in the great past, finally getting to the present, where Harry destroyed the oh-so-perfect image that Draco had of him. Kind of like Draco was like Ginny, falling for the hero, not the person. But you turned it around. I'm not so sure, if Draco still loves Harry, while he's talking to Davis. And I'm really confused by the boy and the whole situation. And I love it. Thank you for sharing, I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

-Tiliapetiolaris

What a lovely ending!

I had such a smile on my face the whole way through it.

I just love their relationship in this and the proposal was so perfect for who Draco is. Not mushy or fluffy but just the right amount of love in there for Malfoy to show while in public. Just perfect.

I apologize for not commenting as often as I should have on this story. I've been following it for quite some time but never got around to leaving you a comment.

A brilliant story by a brilliant writer!

Great Job!

I've spent the past few days reading this whole story and I have to tell you that I'm in love with it.

You are a brilliant writer and I can't wait to see what you have in store next!

Keep up the amazing work!

-Satin Skies

Once again, NICE. Thanks!

And Happy Birthday for the end of April =]

Just so you know, I love this story... Well written, good plot, no serious holes and it makes me happy(apart from a hint of jealousy...(still single))!

I await every additional chapter; it will make me sad to reach the end!

Just so you know.

Thanks

-Sammy041

I must say that I find this story incredibly addictive. And brilliant. I haven't read something like this in a long time now. It's a pearl so to say, which is a hard thing to come by lately. The plot is very well planned and it keeps you interested through the whole thing. I particularly impressed by the narration, the story that Draco is telling and the "present" events are put together very nicely. And the characters are believable which is extremely important. I know that I probably sound like a hopless fangirl but that is what I truly feel and since you gave me so much enjoyment with your story, you definately deserve all this praise :D

It actually saddens me to hear that we only have so little ahead of this. I know that it's the climax and everything will be resolved, but I hope that you will tell us the tale of Voldemort's "first death" so to say :D If you don't then I'm afraid I'll die of curiosity :D

Greetings

-Leen

I like it

-Slytheringirl

This chapter was absolutely incredible . . . by far the most poetic, spiritual culmination of Harry and Draco's love I've ever read. I am continually impressed by your work, and am ecstatic to see how it all comes to a close. You never cease to amaze me :)

-FireIce Angel

Simply, Wow. The whole story has been great so far, and I very much appreciate good use of language and correct grammar!

Nice twist btw.

-Sammy

wow. I love this chap... it's so great and I love th direction in which this story develops!

-The Teddy of Death

Oh My God. Of all the things I could see happening, this wasn't one of them, and I feel stupid because all the hints were there. duh.

You are genius, this is amazing. I love it to bits 3

and yay, my bday is july 31st too :D

and YAY, NOW I DON'T FEEL GUILTY FOR SHIPPING DAVIS/DRACO! 8D!

is it bad to say that i'm shipping draco/davis hard right now?

he's like mini harry, but in slytherin :D

as always i loved this 3

i love this.

everytime i remember the beginning of this story, all this sweetness become bitterseet! i really want to know what happens next!

this was too sweet, i might die. the last part was just perfect 3

lovely!

I'm so, so late reviewing this chapter D:

sorry

but i loved it, it was really, really sweet!

aw

you finally updated! i'm so happy

i want to know what happened ~~

i'll be waiting for your pudate!

and thank you for writing this 3

YAY! that's good, girl! I love long chapters :D!

Oh Draco, such a cutie pie~ *runs away from Draco's glare*

I love their relationship !

This part, I loved it:

I never fussed visually over his gratitude. I simply waved him away with some sarcastic comment about his complete lack of class and ineptness.

He could see through that though. For some reason or another, I think he's always been able to see.

Oh yeah. You cannot fool Harry Potter, Draco 8D! k~

I'll be waiting your update! I'm very glad you like my comments. I love your story :)!

YAY!

OMG this gets more interesting every time! I'm now so intrigued, I want to know what happened! What happened to Harry, How did things change, etc.

I have already told you I love how you portray Draco, right? well, i'll repeat it, I love your Draco! He's strong but vulnerable at the same time, I love him.

I hope you can update this soon, because I'm always looking forward to this. In fact, I can say that this is the only fanfiction I'm reading at the moment x3! I'm obsessed :)

Oh, I took too long to actually have time to read this chapter x_x! But I finally did, and I loved it as always!

Acceptance is a funny thing indeed xD I loved the last scene 3!

Thank you for writing this, and I hope you update soon!

LOVE!

Ahh, i was waiting for this, seriously x3!

I like Draco so much! He doesn't know how to react at Harry's actions x3!

Hope you update soon; i'm very glad everytime you update! 3!

Oh, Draco, I love him ;;

Harry is so noble, and he believes in Draco 3!

Sappy romance and forbidden love, me wants! :D

I'm so sorry I didn't comment earlier! I was staying over at a friend's, so I just could read today. This was so good! Oh, I didn't expect this, now I really want to know how Draco's story continues! *feels intrigued just like Davis*

there was a little grammar mistake there btw,this part:

"You're skin is perfect," he decided, brushing the offending hair away with his other hand. (Should be 'Your skin blabla'

I hope this story has a lot of chapters, yes? 3

Oh, poor Draco

This is getting more interesting with every chapter 3!

hope you update soon 3!

Yay! I'm happy; you updated! thank you!

Oh, Draco is my favorite HP character, I love you so much for making this a Draco POV x33! I find it so interesting whenever it's Draco POV, specially because I'm loving the way you¿re picturing him here. You're really good 3!

I'll be waiting for your next update! ^_^

I'm first? yes, yes? *crosses fingers*

I already love this. I love your writing style! I'm really intrigued right now, I want to know what happened at the war, and why is Draco like this now !

Update soon, please!

I'm really glad you are writing again!

-LucyBoo

I'm slightly confused! I mean, didn't Harry show up in the earlier chapters? How can he be dead and reborn as Davis?

I love a good Harry-topping-Draco story. Thanks.

You know, I think Draco could be an excellent cook. The reason being that potion making is the same as cooking: you follow the directions.

WOW. I like this Harry a lot!

-NX-Loveless-XN

yaaa-ah! i knew it! Davis looked too much like harry! xD Love where your story is leading, it's a original narration, and Davis is really sweet^^ ,Im looking forward the next chapter

-Asalea

Whoo!

Your fanfic is perfect!

How do you do that? Oh!

It is fantastic!

I wish I could write as well as you.

Yes, yes, I think he would ever love him.

Kisses

-Melyssa

it's been a while. but i like it ^^

-KoiinuNe

This is like my favourite story ever it is so good :D

-Torchwoodfan 13

aw... Harry and Hermione are so nice to Draco! This fic is very realistic and that is quite an achievement! Please update soon! =)

**- **.star

What a great start - totally intriguing. Can't wait to see where you go with this story. Fist chapter and so many questions already - Why does Draco think Harry is a monster? why is Draco in pain? just what is going on? So looking to the next chapter. :)

-serilla


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